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The ^British Isles 
Through an Opera Glass 

<By CHARLES SM. TAYLOR, Jr. 

Fellow of The Royal Geographical Society and of the 
American Geographical Society 

Author of "Vacation Days in Hawaii and Japan" 
With Map and Forty-eight Illustrations 



"Philadelphia 

George W. Jacobs & Co. 



1899 




-1898'* 




THE LIBRARY 
OF CONGRESS 

WASHINGTON 



Copyright 1899, by 
George W. Jacobs & Co, 



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tCfjts oolume is affectionately inscxibtb 



CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Abroad — Paris — " Merrie England." ...... 9 

Sail for Havre — Paris— Champs Elysees— Bois 
de Boulogne — St. Cloud — The Louvre — Tuiler- 
ies — Place de la Concorde — Versailles — Pere 
la Chaise — London — The Thames — Richmond 
Hill— Hyde Park— The Tower— British Muse- 
um — Westminster Abbey — South Kensington 
Museum — London Bridge — Hampton Court — 
Kew Gardens — Planning a Tour — Ireland, Scot- 
land and the English Lakes — London Street 
Cries — Living Expenses at Home and Abroad 
— We Leave London — Travelling Companions 
— Liverpool — A Bank Holiday — New Brighton 
— " Salvationists" — Parliament. 

Dublin — Bray — Picturesque Ireland 37 

En Route for Dublin — Holyhead — Kingstown 
— Dublin — An Irish Jaunting Car — Petticoat 
Lane— Sackville Street— Hill of Howth— Bray 
— Enniskerry — Glen of the Downs — Espla- 
nade — A Little Irish Boy — Sketching Bray 
Head — Spectators — Sugar Loaf Mountain — 
Rathdrum— The Ride to Glendalough— Other 
Tourists— The Seven Churches—" The Meeting 
of the Waters " — Avoca. 

Mountains and Lakes — Old Castles and Towns. 67 
An Irish Liberal — Arklow — Shelton Abbey — 
A Norman Castle — Enniscorthy — New Ross — 
Irishtown— The Steamer Ida— Waterford— The 



4 CONTENTS 

PAGB 

Top of the Hill— An Old Shanty— Cork— Pat- 
rick Street and Bridge—" The Bells of Shan- 
don " — Blarney Castle — The Blarney Stone— 
A Scotch Lassie — Bantry — Glengariffe — St. 
Swithin and Rain — On the Road to Killarney — 
Tunnels— Kenmare— The Black Valley— The 
Upper Lake. 

The Gap of Dunloe— Romantic Ireland ... 105 
The Royal Victoria Hotel — Ross Castle — To 
the Gap of Dunloe — Kate Kearney's Cottage — 
Fairy Glen — Serpent Lake — St. Patrick's Cot- 
tage — Macgillicuddy's Reeks — Five Islands — 
The Long Range— "The Happy Family"— 
Shooting the Rapids— The Old Bridge— "Tooth- 
ache Bridge" — Brickeen Bridge— Devil's Island 
— Muckross Abbey — Colleen Bawn Rock — Tore 
Mountain — Limerick — The Theatre Royal — 
The River Shannon — Kilrush. 

Kilkee — Galway — Clifden — Sligo — By Rail 
and River 135 

Kilkee— The Cliffs— Dunlicky Castle and Bish- 
op's Island — "Evicted Houses" — The Main 
Street — Caves of Kilkee — Keeping the Sab- 
bath — Galway— Eyre Square — Church of St. 
Nicholas — Salmon Leap — Fish Market — Salt 
Hill— On the Road to Clifden— The New Rail- 
road— Rainbow— Clifden— The Way to West- 
port — Letterfrack — Kylemore Castle — Leenane 
— Westport — Ride to Sligo— Rapids— Ballyso- 
dare — Sligo — Lough Hill — Our Old Driver — 



CONTENTS 5 

PAGE 

The White Donkey — Stories by the Way— 
Drumcliffe Round Tower — Cliffs on the Glen- 
car — Going for Turf — Bundoran. 

Famous Irish Towns and Their Industries — 

The Giant's Causeway 175 

Bundoran — Along the Cliffs — Ballyshannon — 
Falls of Erne — Belleek Pottery — Lough Erne 
— Crevinish Castle — Devenish Abbey and 
Round Tower — Enniskillen — Londonderry — 
Lough Swilly — The Old Wall — Portrush — 
Giant's Causeway — Recognizing a Philadel- 
phian — The Organ — Honeycomb — Loom — 
Lord Antrim's Parlor — The Fan — Keystone — 
Ladies' Wishing Chair — Old Women — The 
Chimneys— The Well— The Giant's Eyeglass— 
Dunluce Castle — Belfast — The Wanamaker 
of Belfast — Royal Damask Linen Factory — 
Ormeau Park — Cave Hill — Irish Hospitality. 

The Land of Burns — Glasgow — The Trossachs. 209 
Lame — Stranraer — The Land of Burns — Ayr — 
Burns' Cottage — The Monument — Relics of the 
Poet — Picture — Glasgow — Origin of the Name — 
Royal Princess Theatre— About the City— The 
Cathedral— West End Park— James Watt— The 
Clyde — Loch Lomond — The Trossachs — Inver- 
snaid — Loch Katrine — Rob Roy's Hut — Stron- 
achlachar— Ellen's Isle — Our Coach— Loch Ard. 

The Highlands — Staffa and Iona — Fingal's 

Cave — Inverness 233 

Greenock — En Route for Oban — Dunoon — 
Rothesay — Kyles of Bute — Maids of Bute — 



6 CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Tarbert — Crinan Canal — Oban — Castle Dun- 
staffnage — Staffa — Fingal's Cave — The Cause- 
way — Bending Pillars — Fingal's Wishing Chair 
— Iona— The Street of the Dead— The Ceme- 
tery — Ballachulish — Glencoe — Ossian's Cave — 
The Scene of the Massacre — Banavie — Ben 
Nevis — Fort Augustus — Inverness — The North- 
ern Meeting — Scotch Pipers — A Noted Charac- 
ter — Away to Edinburgh — Scenes on the Jour- 
ney — Farewell to the Highlands. 

Edinburgh and the English Lakes — The Home 

Voyage 281 

Edinburgh — The Castle — Princes Street — 
Scott's Monument— St. Giles' Cathedral— Can- 
ongate Tolbooth — John Knox's House and 
Church — White Horse Close — Holyrood — 
Queen Mary's Apartments — The Queensferry 
Road — Dean Bridge — Forth Bridge — Farewell 
to Scotland — Keswick — Lake Derwentwater — 
Pencil Manufacturers— Greta Hall— The Islands 
— Drive Around the Lake — By Coach to Win- 
dermere — Homes of Shelley and Hall Caine — 
Wythburn Church — Lake Thirlmere — Helm 
Crag — Grasmere — Nab Cottage — Rydal Mount 
Ambleside — Windermere — Liverpool — The Day 
of Departure — On Board the Etruria — The 
Home Voyage — New York — Home Again. 




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LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 



PAGK 



" Here are many pigs, the ' Gentlemen who pay the 

rent ' " . . . . Frontispiece 

11 The Irish Jaunting Car " . . . .41 

Bray, the Brighton of Ireland ... 47 

The Famous Glendalough . . . .57 

Sweet Vale of Avoca ..... 63 

" Irishtown " . . . . . .71 

" As we ascend, we pass through the very old part of 

Waterford " . . . -77 

" Dried-up specimens of humanity " . . .81 

" Blarney Castle was a lordly place in the days of its 

glory" 85 

" We leave with reluctance this delightful spot " .89 

"We pass through a tunnel " 93 

" A magnificent view meets our eyes " . . 97 

" Royal Victoria Hotel, Killarney " . . .101 

" Old Ross Castle, Killarney " . . . .109 

Fairy Glen and Serpent Lake, Gap of Dunloe . 113 

" The musicians, however, are anything but fairy-like " 1 17 
" We shoot the Rapids under Old Weir Bridge " .121 

Devil's Island, Killarney .... 125 
Colleen Bawn Rock . . . . .129 

" In the Distance is Bishop's Island " . .139 

Main Road, Galway ..... 143 

"We have never seen their like before " . . 147 

" We find ourselves within sight of the beautiful and 

picturesque Kylemore Castle " , . .151 

" We take our places in the large jaunting car that 

leaves for Sligo " .... 155 

7 



8 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 



PAGB 



" Picturesque mountains are on our right " . . 159 

" We have an old driver full of Irish wit and history " 163 
" We pass many children on donkeys with baskets on 

either side, going for turf " . . . 167 

" There are many odd sights " . . . -171 

Great Northern Hotel, Bundoran . . .179 

" How skilful these workmen are in moulding the 

many different patterns " . . . 183 

" Exquisite scenes greet us on right and left " . . 187 

" Port Coon Cave " . .• . .191 

"View of the Famous Causeway" . . . 195 

" Surrounding the chair are many old women " . 199 
" The little cottage in which Burns was born " . .215 

" Enchanting scenery surrounds us," Loch Lomond 225 

" We are rowed to the Island " . . . .241 

" The renowned Fingal's Cave " . . . 245 

" We walk along the « Street of the Dead ' " . .251 

" We have reached the scene of the massacre " . 257 
" We have a fine view of Ben Nevis " . . .261 

" We have a long and delightful ride on Loch Ness " 265 
" A Prize Dance " ..... 269 
" A Typical Highland Washday "... 274 
" Queen's View, Killiecrankie Pass " . . 277 

" The famous bridge which spans the Forth" . . 295 

" We Stroll to Lake Derwentwater " . . 301 

"The Quiet Waters of Rydal" . . . .311 



Abroad — Paris — 

44 Merrie England* 



tt 



cAbroad— Paris— "cMerrie England." 

Sail for Havre — Paris — Champs Elysees — Bois de Bou- 
logne — St. Cloud — The Louvre — Tuileries — Place de 
la Concorde — Versailles — Pere la Chaise — London — 
Clean Streets — The Tower of London — British 
Museum — Westminster Abbey — Hampton Court — 
St. Paul's Cathedral — Crystal Palace — Planning a 
Tour — Ireland, Scotland, and the English Lakes — 
London Street Cries — Living Expenses at Home and 
Abroad — We Leave London — Travelling Com- 
panions — Liverpool — A Bank Holiday — New Brigh- 
ton — Salvationists — Parliament. 



ANY human beings deem it one of 
Heaven's greatest blessings to be " let 
alone ;" to be allowed to wander on, 
day after day, along the beaten track of familiar 
routine ; to pass their whole lives amid the asso- 
ciations of their native cities : while others desire 
more than the comforts of a home surrounded 
by dear friends and relatives, and long for a per- 
sonal knowledge of distant countries, and the 
manners and customs of their inhabitants. 



12 The British Isles 

In the hearts of the latter class, the years as 
they come and go, leave germs of restlessness, 
and a gradually increasing determination to 
gratify this longing ; to add to their experience 
by a visit to these foreign shores ; to tramp and 
observe the rare, the new, the curious ; to see 
life in all its phases ; and to fill the mental store- 
house with the varied treasures that only thus 
may be obtained. This is the case with us. 
And so we find ourselves one day on board the 
French Liner La Bourgogne, bound for Havre, in 
order to make a roundabout trip, and take in 
Paris, on our way to the British Isles. 

As the great hawsers which hold the steamer 
to the pier are loosened, and we are towed 
toward midstream, we strain our eyes to distin- 
guish the forms of the dear ones assembled on 
the end of the pier to wish us bon voyage. Other 
emotions mingle with the joy of starting out to 
fulfil our dreams, and observe the possibilities in 
life on other planes. The good wishes and 
loving calls of farewell lose their sweetness in 



Abroad — Paris — " Merrie England " 13 

the noise and bustle that prevail, and our only- 
consolation is in the continued waving of hand- 
kerchiefs. These little white signals speak to 
us in place of the lips that are sealed, and we 
watch them fondly until the increasing distance 
shuts them wholly from view ; then seek steamer 
chairs, and write letters to the dear ones, to be 
taken ashore by the pilot, when he leaves us at 
Sandy Hook. 

So the first day passes in writing and loung- 
ing on deck, enjoying the pure sea air. What 
follows during the ensuing days until we reach 
Havre need hardly be noted. It is the same 
from day to day ; the noise of the machinery, 
the roll of the steamer, encouraging words to 
the sick, and the usual round of entertainments 
found on an ocean steamer : so the time passes, 
while our staunch ship ploughs the angry waves, 
or glides smoothly over the waters of the deep 
blue sea. We reach Havre at eleven o'clock in 
the evening, and remain on board till morning. 
Many pleasant acquaintances have been made 



14 The British Isles 

during the voyage, and now regretful partings, 
accompanied by " May Heaven bless you " and 
hopes of future meetings are the order of the 
day. We proceed by train from Havre to Paris 
the same day, and drive to the Normandy Hotel. 
We remain a couple of weeks in the gay 
capital. Many and varied are the pleasures 
afforded by this wonderful city. In our expedi- 
tions about the city we frequently come across a 
fellow voyager, an acquaintance, or an old friend 
from home ; and these unexpected meetings are 
a source of great delight to us, since we are never 
sure that an entertaining companion will not fall 
in with us at any point in our merry journeys 
hither and thither. The streets are full of life 
and the Champs Elysees, as ever, stands without 
a rival, as the centre of gayety and beauty. This 
charming place is frequented by all classes of the 
people. There are many seats in the shade of 
its fine trees, and for a penny, you may occupy 
one for an hour or a day, according to your 
pleasure. Thousands of maidens and pretty 



Abroad — Paris — "Merrie England" 15 

children may be seen flitting about these lovely- 
walks. Numerous cafes offer refreshments to 
the pleasure seekers, and there are concert halls, 
with their mimic stages for dancers and actors, 
while the lover of music, from him who prefers 
the typical French songs of the day to the wor- 
shipper of more classic melodies, will here find 
his taste gratified. We pay our penny, and from 
an enchanting bower look out upon the happy 
throng during a long delightful afternoon. In 
the Bois de Boulogne we also find the merry 
populace, driving along in fashionable attire, 
strolling through the Park, or lingering beside 
the lake and waterfall. The fine avenue from 
the Champs Elysees hither is a pleasant sight in 
afternoons, when the throng of gay equipages is 
at its height. 

The village of St. Cloud is several miles west 
of Paris, on the Seine ; and here are the famous 
palace, gardens and park. The palace is a ruin, 
but the gardens are very lovely, and we wander 
among the beautiful paths, admiring the world- 



1 6 The British Isles 

renowned fountains, and from the tops of the 
hills which the gardens cover, we have a magni- 
ficent view of the city of Paris. 

The glorious paintings and wonderful statu- 
ary of the Louvre are irresistible attractions, and 
we spend many hours in the presence of these 
masterpieces of great artists. 

The Garden of the Tuileries is another favor- 
ite resort of the people, to whom it is open from 
daybreak until dark. From its terraces there is 
a beautiful prospect of the Seine, the Place de la 
Concorde and the Champs Elysees. The palace, 
which has been the scene of various historical 
events and terrible tragedy, is a ruin, inaccessible 
to the public. 

The Place de la Concorde, with its fine views 
its charming fountains, and its historical associa- 
tions, also attracts us, and we can scarcely real- 
ize that on this beautiful, peaceful spot the 
infuriated mobs of Paris wrought their deeds of 
vengeance, and put to death a long line of noble 
men and women. So lovely are our surroundings 



Abroad— Paris— "Merrie England" 17 

here, that that dreadful epoch seems the creation 
of a morbid fancy, or a terrible nightmare, which 
we are glad to cast into the shades of oblivion. 

But endless are the entertainments, and num- 
berless the interesting and attractive points for 
the stranger in Paris. It would be vain to attempt 
to mention them all. Yet I cannot pass by the 
palace, gardens, and fountains of Versailles with- 
out a word. How long could we not linger on 
those wide terraces, and in those lovely embow- 
ered paths, with the shining sheets of water at 
their feet. We are loath to leave these enchant- 
ing vistas, with their fairy-like associations, even 
for the palace itself. The statuary, bronzes, and 
vases on the outside are worthy a longer obser- 
vation than our time will allow, and to do justice 
to this richly ornamented interior, with its paint- 
ing and sculpture, with our limited time, would 
be a vain attempt. We would indeed gladly 
spend many days in this lovely spot, but Paris 
and her environments call for a long sojourn or 
many visits. 



1 8 The British Isles 

In Pcre la Chaise we find the celebrated tomb 
of Abelard and Heloise, with its effigies of the 
lovers lying at last side by side in their long sleep. 

But the last days arrive, and we hasten 
through the remainder of our sight-seeing, bid 
farewell to the pleasure-loving throngs, and, 
crossing the English Channel with an indescrib- 
able feeling of " homeness " and kinship, find 
ourselves once more among people who speak 
our own language. 

At Morley's Hotel, Trafalgar Square, Lon- 
don, in response to a telegram, a fine large room 
is ready for us, with windows overlooking the 
Strand. 

London is a beautiful city. Each time we 
visit this metropolis we are more impressed with 
the order and cleanliness of its streets. We are 
informed that they are flushed with water every 
morning at about three o'clock. There are hosts 
of boys whose duty it is to gather up all the 
litter that may be seen defacing the highways. 

We do not remain at Morley's, but settle 



Abroad — Paris — "Merrie England" 19 

down in apartments in a very comfortable house 
in Duchess Street, Portland Place, where we have 
a large chamber and a spacious, elaborately fur- 
nished drawing-room or library. We are located 
in one of the most desirable spots in London, 
convenient to theatres, shops, etc. Our stay 
here is pleasant and full of interest. We travel 
about in the most unconventional manner, stop- 
ping wherever the impulse of the moment leads 
us. Some days the beautiful Thames tempts us 
with its famous and picturesque bridges and the 
noble country-seats along its banks. We wander 
out to Richmond Hill for the lovely view, or 
linger about Hyde Park in the late afternoon to 
see the carriages and equestrians on " Rotten 
Row." In the South Kensington Museum we 
prowl about in the most unsystematic manner, 
now filled with enthusiasm for an ancient Indian 
god, now absorbed in a rare volume in the mag- 
nificent library here, or lost in admiration of a 
fine English water-color. We spend hours here 
when the mood for antiquity is upon us. 



20 The British Isles 

It is very interesting to watch the mass of 
people, and the endless rows of vehicles con- 
stantly moving over London Bridge. The police 
are busy keeping everything and everybody mov- 
ing in the two ceaseless streams, one flowing to 
the north, the other to the south. 

The ancient Tower of London stands on the 
banks of the Thames, in the heart of the city, 
and, although built by William the Conqueror, is 
in a perfect state of preservation. Here we see 
the long row of king's effigies, from Edward I. to 
James II., also the crown jewels, and many 
trophies of war and stands of ancient armor. 
The treasures of the British Museum are price- 
less and beyond description. We linger among 
the Elgin marbles and the other mutilated statu- 
ary, whose grace and nobility of form are the 
dream and the despair of the artists of to-day. 

For more than eight hundred years the kings 
and queens of England have been crowned in 
Westminster Abbey. Here, too, are royal tombs, 
and tombs of those who were greater than roy- 



Abroad— Paris — "Merrie England" 21 

alty. Here are monuments and memorials of all 
the English celebrities of many ages. Here lie 
the mortal remains of Spenser, Milton, Dryden, 
of Handel, of Dickens and Thackeray, and many, 
many others. 

Here, too, fastened beneath the celebrated 
Coronation Chair, is the famous Stone of Scone, 
with its wonderful history and curious traditions. 
This dark, rough-looking stone is about two feet 
square and six or seven inches thick. It is said 
to be the stone upon which Jacob's head rested 
when he beheld the vision of the heavenly stair- 
case and the " angels of God." Edward I. brought 
this stone from Scotland, where for many gen- 
erations it was the coronation stone of the Scott- 
ish kings. 

In the National Gallery we see a fine collec- 
tion of paintings by the great English masters. 

The splendid palace of Hampton Court is on 
the Thames, a short distance from London. The 
park and gardens are lovely, and the enormous 
chestnut trees have a world-wide fame. In the 



22 The British Isles 

palace is a fine gallery of paintings, mostly his- 
torical portraits, and there are luxurious apart- 
ments and handsome tapestry. The terrace, 
nearly a mile in length, overlooks a charming 
landscape. 

St. Paul's Cathedral is on the summit of 
Ludgate Hill, and may be seen from many miles 
around. It is of gigantic proportions and con- 
tains the tombs of many of England's great 
men. 

Kew Garden is the most famous garden in the 
world. Its trees, bushes, shrubs, and flowers are 
arranged for artistic effect, and one might explore 
it for days without ceasing to find new plants or 
trees or flowers, or unexpected arrangements in 
its paths or shrubbery. 

Meanwhile the all-important question of plans 
for future travel presents itself. What course 
shall we pursue next ? How and whither shall we 
go in order to observe the most curious, interest- 
ing, and instructive phases of life in this richly- 
dowered region ? 



Abroad — Paris — "Merrie England" 23 

The genial and untiring manager at the main 
office of Thos. Cook & Son is of great assistance 
in our consultations. He plans for us a route 
which will include many of the most interesting 
places for the lovers of old abbeys and picturesque 
scenery to be found in these localities. By the 
plan proposed we proceed from London to Liver- 
pool, thence to Dublin and Cork, and by steamer, 
rail, and coach, skirt the western shore of Ireland, 
from south to north, until we reach Belfast. There 
the Scotch map is taken up, with the journey 
to Glasgow, and delightful winding tours there- 
about, to Oban. Thence to the Hebrides ; back 
to Oban again, and along the Caledonian Canal 
to Inverness, Forres and Edinburgh. Thence to 
the English Lakes and Liverpool. Many points 
not mentioned are embraced in this first outline 
of our prospective tour. 

The plan suits us, and tickets are purchased 
for the entire route. Now follows much reading 
up of the points of interest to be seen in our 
travels. We also look so far ahead as to engage 



24 The British Isles 

a state-room for the return voyage to America on 
the good steamer Etruria. 

As I sit reading this morning by the library 
window, overlooking the street, strange and unin- 
telligible sounds come to my ears from the various 
venders, who thus advertise their wares. 

" Heat ! Heat ! " cries the man who has coal 
for sale. The indistinguishable cry of the straw- 
berry man leaves upon the mind the impression 
of " Strawberry ! Strawberry ! Very heavy." 
The milkman calls " Coo ! Coo I" and the chim- 
ney sweep wails " Screep ! Screep ! Screep !" 

" Qui vive ! Qui vive ! " is the next sound 
that greets my ear. What on earth has this man 
to sell ? Looking out the window, I perceive a 
vender with a large basket. My first inclination 
is to close the window and return to my book, 
but no ; my curiosity is aroused to such a pitch 
as the strange cry continues, that I hasten out 
into the street and follow the fellow, determined 
to learn what he has in his basket. It proves to 
be cat and dog meat, which he calls out in such 



Abroad— Paris — " Merrie England" 25 

a manner that it sounds exactly like " Qui 
vive." 

These are some of the week-day sounds. 
On the Sabbath there is a change. The noble 
church bells with their musical chimes call all 
good Christians to the House of God to offer 
thanks to the Ruler of all, for the blessings he 
has bestowed. Now I hear in the distance the 
notes of a hymn sung with much pathos. The 
voices draw nearer and nearer, until beneath our 
window appear a man, woman, and child, singing 
as they walk along, and now and then turning 
aside to solicit alms from their listeners, glad of 
any mite thrown to them. 

We find living abroad quite as expensive as 
at home ; that is, in accordance with our usual 
mode of living. Vegetables, meats, fruits, etc., 
average about the same here in price ; also enter- 
tainments, as theatres, operas, and the like. 
Clothing seems to be the single exception, and 
here the cost is from forty to fifty per cent. less. 
For instance : strawberries, while at their height, 



26 The British Isles 

cost at a regular fruit store, eighteen and twenty 
cents a box ; cherries, ten, twelve, and sixteen 
cents a pound ; tomatoes, three, four, and five 
cents apiece. These prices could, however, be 
reduced by purchasing at one of the many mar- 
kets for the sale of such produce. 

Omnibus fares are to some extent cheaper. 
The system is more just than ours. Suppose 
the route to be four miles : the first mile, a fare 
of one penny is charged ; for two miles, the fare 
is two pennies; for three miles, three pennies, 
and so on, so that the passenger who travels 
only one mile is not obliged to pay the fare for 
the whole route. 

Hansom rates are also less than in the United 
States. For two persons a shilling is charged 
for one mile, one and sixpence for two miles, and 
so on. It would seem at this rate as though the 
fare might become so much reduced that if a 
" cabby " carries you four miles you pay him 
nothing, and if six miles the obligation is on the 
other side, and you receive a premium of a 



Abroad — Paris — "Merrie England" 27 

shilling for favor conferred ; but thus far my 
experience has not proved that the analogy has 
been practically carried out. 

As the time for leaving London approaches, 
the bustle and confusion of packing fill the 
atmosphere. 

We leave the Midland R. R. Station at noon, 
and by previous arrangement (the payment of a 
shilling to the guard) are given a first-class com- 
partment in the express train. A little " oil " 
thus used, causes the machinery of travel to run 
smoothly. 

We suppose we are to be alone, but just 
before leaving the station learn that another 
passenger is to share the compartment. Our 
fellow-traveller is a grave - looking man of 
about sixty-five years. He at once begins con- 
versation, and after some remarks on religion, 
politics and general topics of the day, inquires 
our destination. Upon learning that we are 
making a tour through Ireland and Scotland, he 
becomes much interested, and changing his seat 



28 The British Isles 

for one nearer to us, bids us make notes of the 
various hotels in both these countries where he 
is known to the proprietors. We make the 
notes — partly to satisfy the old man. 

He leaves us at Bedford, saying that he feels 
in better spirits than before he met us. The 
poor man had lost his wife two years ago, and 
was in consequence much depressed. He 
informed us that he was born at Bedford, and 
had many a time, when a boy, played top near 
the church where John Bunyan tolled the bell, 
and swore while doing it. 

While we are congratulating ourselves upon 
being once more alone, the train stops at Leices- 
ter, and a lady and gentleman enter our com- 
partment — a tall, handsome type of the Irish 
gentleman, with a typical English woman for his 
wife. 

The appearance of my camera, arranged to 
take some photographs of Leicester, opens an 
interesting conversation between the lady and 
myself, while her husband engages my com- 



Abroad— Paris — "Merrie England" 29 

panion in an animated talk on hunting, fishing, 
etc. They are a delightful couple, and we soon 
become as social as old acquaintances. They are 
owners of large estates in Ireland, but are too 
poor to live upon them. They are " land poor." 
At Derby they leave us with the customary 
" God bless you " and hearty thanks for our 
invitation to visit us in America. 

We are fortunate enough to have another 
agreeable fellow-traveller in a young man, with 
whom we soon find ourselves in animated con- 
versation. He points out all the interesting 
places along the way, and gives us much valu- 
able information regarding them. 

The scenery is grand as we approach the 
famous Derbyshire Hills. One could more 
easily imagine himself in some Alpine village 
than in the heart of England. Here is a tunnel 
two miles in length, and we are just two min- 
utes and a half passing through it. While in 
the tunnel, the windows of the car seem to be 
covered with frost. Our new acquaintance tells 



3<d The British Isles 

us that this is from the action of sulphur, which 
we smell quite plainly. As we emerge into the 
daylight our eyes rest upon the beautiful Matlock, 
which, with the surrounding country, is a para- 
dise of enchanting loveliness. 

We pass the Peak Forest, the scene of Sir 
Walter Scott's famous novel, " Peveril of the 
Peak," also Buxton and Stockport, large manu- 
facturing centres for cotton goods, and come to 
the great Manchester Canal, upon which so many 
millions of dollars have been expended, and 
which thus far has proved a financial failure. 
And now at last we whirl into the station at 
Liverpool, an hour behind schedule time. We 
have been six hours on the road, and are truly 
sorry that this portion of our journey has come 
to an end, so interesting have our fellow-travel- 
lers made the way. 

Our train is a long one, drawn by two immense 
engines, and is crowded with passengers, as it is a 
bank holiday. All stores and business places here 
are closed to the public, and the entire day is de- 



Abroad — Paris — "Merrie England" 31 

voted to frolic and pleasure. We go at once to 
the pleasant and homelike Adelphi Hotel. 

Liverpool contains many fine buildings, 
among them a number of old churches and a 
handsome art gallery. It also has some pretty 
parks, with picturesque sheets of water winding 
among their hills ; and there are many quaint 
old inns on the outskirts of the town, as well as 
numerous substantial residences surrounded by 
grand old trees. Everywhere are evidences of 
the great wealth and vast trade of the city, yet 
there are too many evidences of poverty and vice. 

I avail myself of the present opportunity to 
make a trip to New Brighton, the sea-shore resort 
of the people of Liverpool. Here are crowds of 
men, women, and children bent on pleasure. The 
enormous passenger traffic on this road is almost 
beyond calculation, and the sight is a pleasure to 
those who enjoy large gatherings. New Brighton 
is situated on the bank of the Mersey, and here, 
if his bones are not too stiff, one may enjoy 
bathing, dancing, playing ball, and riding horses 



32 The British Isles 

and donkeys. He may refresh himself after 
these exercises with a cup of the celebrated 
English tea. 

This evening we take a "bus" ride and see 
swarms of people returning home after the day's 
frolic, all merry and orderly, though tired. Here 
is an extract from one of the daily newspapers of 
Liverpool on the subject of bank holidays : 

" The weather yesterday may be compared to 
a man who is excused because his bark is worse 
than his bite. It threatened a good deal but did 
little. In the morning it was cold, as it often is 
in these latitudes. About midday the sun con- 
descended now and again to favor the holiday- 
makers with a brief and fleeting smile, but the 
brightness soon vanished, and finally in the 
evening it rained a little bit, and so we had some 
of the proverbial ' samples of weather ' which 
seems to be the modern paraphrase for the time- 
honored ' six fine days and a thunderstorm/ 
that, as Continental folk are firmly persuaded, is 
the English summer. Still the British public 



Abroad — Paris — c< Merrie England" $5 

that goes a-pleasuring on bank holidays is in no 
wise put out by mild deterrents like these. Such 
samples of the British public as patronize Liver- 
pool on these occasions — and they come from as 
near as Wigan, and as far as Newcastle-upon- 
Tyne, flocking in from all the four quarters of 
the Midlands and Yorkshire and Lancashire — 
appear to be well satisfied with things. Well- 
behaved and orderly crowds, too, they are, and 
well dressed. The passion for steamboat voy- 
aging, even if only across the Mersey and back, 
is strong within those whose opportunities of 
indulging in the pastime are limited. The bank 
holiday makers appear to find Liverpool interest- 
ing enough, in spite of the fact that none of the 
town people remain in the city who can get away. 
It is not unpicturesque, its public buildings and 
its Art Gallery and Museum are worth looking 
at, and then there is the river, a marine panorama 
of no mean order, with, on the other side of it, the 
wild and exhilarating frolics of New Brighton." 
Another is as follows : " From an early hour, 



34 The British Isles 

trippers poured into New Brighton and the large 
stretch of sand to the north and south of the 
promenade pier soon became covered with a 
moving mass of people. As usual, the arrange- 
ments made for the ferry traffic were excellent, 
the whole of the fleet of the Wallasey Local 
Board, some nine steamers, being in requisition." 

Liverpool seems to be a centre for the " Sal- 
vationists," for at almost every corner one sees a 
great crowd of people uniting in religious ser- 
vices and singing hymns, the leader having a 
portable organ or accordion. At one corner the 
minister is entreating his hearers to come into 
the church, which is about to open its doors 
close by, and many probably follow his advice, as 
there seems to be an inclination towards religion 
here, in spite of much wickedness and unclean- 
liness. 

We attend the Royal Alexandra Theatre, 
which proves but a second-rate entertainment. 
In purchasing reserved seats at places of amuse- 
ment throughout England it is customary to 



Abroad — Paris — "Merrie England" 35 

register the name of the buyer in the regular 
books as well as inscribe it upon his slip. 

To-morrow we will be again enroute, by train and 
steamer, for Dublin via Holyhead, hoping to reach 
our destination by half-past five in the afternoon. 

There has been an exciting election for mem- 
bers of Parliament in England. While these 
elections are affairs of great importance, and 
arouse public feeling to a considerable degree, 
they do not in any respect resemble the scenes 
at some of our polls, such, for instance, as the 
disgraceful riots carried on during election day 
in the Fourth Ward in Philadelphia, which have 
frequently been anything but a credit to the 
reputation of a well-governed city. It is quite 
common in England for the ladies to take an 
active part in the elections, soliciting votes for 
their favorite candidates, and in many ways 
exerting a widespread and powerful influence in 
public affairs. Indeed, a prominent English lady 
assured me that she had secured a large number 
of votes for a member recently elected. 



Dublin, Bray, and 

Picturesque Ireland. 



Dublin, ^ray, and Picturesque Ireland. 

En route for Dublin — Holyhead — Kingstown — Dublin — 
An Irish Jaunting Car — Petticoat Lane — Sackville 
Street —Hill of Howth — Bray — Enniskerry — Glen of 
the Downs — Esplanade — A Little Irish Boy — Sketch- 
ing Bray Head — Spectators — Sugar Loaf Mountain — 
Rathdrum- -The Ride to Glendalough— Other Tour- 
ists — The Seven Churches — "The Meeting of the 
Waters " — Avoca. 

>E leave the station of the L. & N. W. 
R.W., Liverpool, for Dublin, at 10.25 
a. m., with two steamer trunks and our 
hand-grips. It is a charming day. Heavy clouds 
hang in the sky, illuminated by the radiant sun- 
beams with picturesque effect. We pass through 
the northern part of Wales, and from Rhyl 
onward behold a scenic panorama of great 
grandeur. On our right is the long expanse of 
the Irish Sea, while on the left the beautiful 
mountains of Wales tower far above us. 

There are many watering-places along the 

39 



40 The British Isles 

route, with their unsightly bathing machines 
stationed here and there on the edge of the beach. 
As we speed on, making a mile a minute, we 
leave behind us Rhyl, Colwin, Bangor, and at 
last arrive at Holyhead, where we take a fine, 
powerful steamer, the Connanght, for Kingstown. 
There is a great hurrying hither and thither of 
men, women, and children, with boxes, satchels, 
and bundles. The whistle sounds, the great 
side wheels begin to turn, the water foams and 
bubbles, and we are under full steam for old 
Ireland. 

It is a charming voyage. The steamer makes 
good time, and, sitting on deck, we watch the 
lofty mountains of Wales soften into hills, then 
banks, and finally disappear wholly from our 
view, while the tall peaks of Ireland rise up to 
claim their share of the universal enthusiasm. 
The great hill of Howth — and Howth itself — 
now appear in full view. We pass the Kisk 
Light-ship, and, looking south, behold Kingstown, 
the port for which we are destined. 



s 




Dublin, Bray, Picturesque Ireland 43 

Now ensues a general stampede, and in the 
bustle and confusion of landing every one seems 
in terror lest "the devil catch the hindmost." 
All, however, reach the shore in safety, and a 
train bears us from Kingstown to Dublin in a 
few minutes. Here we soon find ourselves in „ 
comfortable quarters in the Hotel Metropole, on A 
Sackville Street. 

In a short walk about the city after dinner 
we have a glimpse of some of Dublin's lads and 
lasses, and are highly entertained by our first 
sight of the Irish jaunting car, which is here 
used both as a private equipage and a hired 
vehicle. It will be an interesting experiment to 
learn how one can ride sideways, with his feet 
dangling over the wheels of the car. We will 
try it to-morrow. 

We are up bright and early and engage our 
jaunting car at one and sixpence an hour for a 
ride around the city. It must be confessed this 
is rather an odd affair to the uninitiated. Unless 
one holds on with a firm grip, he stands a good 



44 The British Isles 

chance of being thrown from his seat on sud- 
denly turning a corner. We drive for an hour 
through the principal streets, passing many 
handsome hotels, residences, shops, and other 
interesting buildings. Sackville Street is the 
chief thoroughfare, and we find it most attractive, 
while Grafton Street, the shopping and business 
locality, presents a mass of stores, especially 
pleasing to the visitor who comes hither with a 
well-filled pocket-book. 

Our drive includes the Bank of Ireland, a noble- 
looking building,with an imposing colonnade,once 
the meeting-place of the Irish Parliament, and rilled 
with historical associations. We also pass Trinity 
College, with its spacious buildings of Portland 
stone, six hundred feet in depth. It is of the 
Corinthian order. In the background is a beautiful 
park, adorned with fine trees and of considerable 
extent, which is used exclusively by the students. 

The Castle of Dublin, at the west end of 
Dame Street, is situated in spacious grounds, 
but is by no means imposing in appearance, and 



Dublin, Bray, Picturesque Ireland 45 

has little to distinguish it from other ancient 
buildings. Close by is Christ Church Cathedral, 
which dates back to 1038, and is noted as the 
repository for various relics : it contains, among 
others, the monumental tomb of Strongbow, 
Earl of Pembroke, the invader of Ireland. 

Here is the Cathedral of St. Patrick, the 
original building of which, it is said, was erected 
by St. Patrick himself, near the well in which he 
baptized his converts. Nelson's Monument, a 
tall column, stands beside the Post Office, which 
is a very handsome building of granite, with a 
fine portico, supported by fluted columns, and 
surmounted by noble statuary. 

The Four-Courts is a magnificent structure, 
facing the river Liftey, with a front 450 feet in 
length. 

Phoenix Park, the delight of the people of 
Dublin, is a grand old place, covering more than 
seventeen hundred acres of ground. It is a lovely 
picturesque region, with nature's own effects pre- 
served in the beautiful green grass, ancient trees 



46 The British Isles 

and luxuriant shrubbery, with long vistas, dis- 
closing charming views of the Wicklow Mount- 
ains. It is said to be the largest park in Britain. 
Many other interesting spots greet our eyes 
as we drive about Dublin. Few cities of its size 
can boast of a greater number of handsome and 
useful buildings. But they do not comprise the 
whole of the town, as we learn, when, by way of 
contrast, we turn into " Petticoat Lane," as it is 
termed. It would be difficult to imagine any- 
thing more utterly forlorn than this street, with 
its mingling of filth and rags. Water appears to 
be utterly unknown here. Men, women and 
children crowd around the saleswomen, who 
shout at the top of their voices, urging the popu- 
lace to buy their wares — disreputable-looking 
articles of every description : shoes, old and torn ; 
worn and filthy garments that would disgrace a 
refuse heap. These are offered at prices to suit 
the class of purchasers. The sight is beyond 
description, and we are satisfied with a brief 
survey of this portion of the town. 



Dublin, Bray, Picturesque Ireland 49 

Here is the Drogheda Railway Station, and 
we are starting on an excursion to the peninsula, 
known as the Hill of Howth, nine miles north of 
Dublin. The ride is delightful, for majestic 
mountains loom up in the distance on either side. 
The threatened rain has become a reality before 
we arrive at Howth; however, we are not dis- 
couraged, but engaging a jaunting car we ascend 
the Hill. Here we bid our driver go his way, 
that we may enjoy the magnificent view undis- 
turbed. 

The Hill of Howth is the most admired of 
all the beautiful suburbs of Dublin. It is six 
hundred feet high, jutting out into the sea, and 
guarding the entrance to the river. It com- 
mands a glorious view, and descends steeply to 
the water which dashes against its base. The 
LifTey flows upon one side of its cliffs, while a 
deep bay or harbor is on the other. 

We stroll about in the rain for a couple of 
hours, enjoying the extensive prospect around us. 
Toward the north we can see a curious rocky 



5<d The British Isles 

island, which is known as Ireland's Eye, and 
beyond this, Lambey, equally charming, with a 
different kind of beauty. Howth Castle, not far 
from the railway station, is surrounded by exten- 
sive grounds, well laid out, and the Abbey is in 
the village, overlooking the harbor. 

To-day we proceed to Bray, a fashionable 
watering-place, sometimes styled " The Brighton 
of Ireland," about twelve miles south of Dublin. 
It has a population of perhaps seven thousand. 
We take rooms at the Royal Marine Hotel, which 
faces the sea, and after lunching, make a tour of 
the place in a jaunting car. 

As far as the eye can see, mountains upon 
mountains rise, from twelve hundred to fifteen 
hundred feet above the level of the sea, presenting 
beautiful and varied views on every side. Before 
us is a picturesque settlement of small one-story 
houses, with whitewashed walls and thatched 
roofs. 

As we ride through Enniskerry, we see in the 
distance the great Sugar Loaf Mountain, which 



Dublin, Bray, Picturesque Ireland 5 1 

is sixteen hundred and eighty-one feet above 
the sea. 

The road to the Glen of the Downs is smooth 
and delightful. Here we meet many ladies and 
gentlemen on bicycles. They walk up, and coast 
down these hilly highways. The Glen is about 
a mile and a half long, and runs along the foot of 
the Downs Mountain. Its sides, which rise to 
a height of six hundred feet, are densely covered 
with copsewood. 

There are many private demesnes in and 
around Bray, to which the public are admitted 
only on certain days of the week. We drive to 
one of these, the estate of the Earl of Meath, 
which encompasses Sugar Loaf Mountain, but 
the gate to the entrance is locked, also that to 
Bray Head ; and in spite of all our persuasions, 
they remain locked. The keeper is not to be 
bribed — evidently shillings are plentiful in his 
experience — so we give it up. 

The Esplanade, or Promenade, is of solid 
stone masonry. Here we stroll frequently, meet- 



52 The British Isles 

ing the fashionable population of Bray, and 
observing the few who venture to take a dip in 
the ocean. Bray Head looms up before us, 
picturesque and attractive. A path leads around 
it, commanding many beautiful views, and the 
enormous tunnel, cut through it by the railway 
company, is plainly visible from this point. 

As we walk along we see before us a fat little 
Irish boy, round and smiling, with such bright 
blue eyes that I must capture him, if not by 
camera, by pencil. He turns to admire the sea, 
all unconscious, and I make a rapid sketch of 
him in my note book. 

An Irish youngster, with form so round, 
Cheeks so red, and eyes so blue — 

Legs bowed, dress loose, and every pound 
Just fat — he stands a type so true. 

Looking north we see Killiney Hill jutting 
far out into the bay. The view from this hill is 
one of the loveliest in this region. Beside the 
bay with its stately ships, one looks down on 
Kingstown and across to the old Hill of Howth. 



Dublin, Bray, Picturesque Ireland 53 

This afternoon I settle myself in the most 
favorable spot for making a water-color sketch 
of Bray Head, and in a position, as I suppose, 
free from all observers. It is at the foot of a 
stone wall, and I am getting on nicely with my 
picture and congratulating myself on the " attend- 
to-your-own-business" air of the people around, 
when, happening to glance toward the promenade 
overhead, I become aware of a dozen or more 
interested spectators. I cannot tell whether this 
interest is complimentary or otherwise. How- 
ever, I go on with my work, and they stay until 
the sketch is finished. 

We leave Bray this morning for Rathdrum. 
On the way we pass through several tunnels in 
Bray Head. Sugar Loaf Mountain is visible 
from the car window. How noble and majestic 
it looks. It seems to send down a benediction 
as we bid farewell to the beautiful picture. 

The day is fine, and everything favors our 
journey. On the train we make the acquaint- 
ance of a pleasant and hospitable Irish gentle- 



54 The British Isles 

man, who not only gives us much information 
regarding his native country, but invites us to 
spend a day or two at his castle at Enniscorthy. 
We thank him, but decline the sincere invitation. 

At Rathdrum about twenty jaunting cars 
await the tourists who wish to visit famous Glen- 
dalough and the Seven Churches. Leaving our 
luggage at the Railroad Hotel, we select a car 
to our liking — that is, one in which there is 
plenty of room. There are six other tourists in 
our car, all making the trip to Glendalough, and 
at least twelve of the remaining cars are filled 
with passengers for the same destination. 

The day begins favorably, but in a half hour 
the rain pours down upon us. We are, fortu- 
nately, well protected by waterproofs and um- 
brellas, having had previous experiences of the 
uncertainty of Irish weather. Our road lies 
through a most gorgeous and beautiful country, 
and, although the rain deprives us of the more 
extended views, we enjoy the mountains that 
rise far above us on every side and the pictur- 



Dublin, Bray, Picturesque Ireland 55 

esque valley below. Our travelling companions 
are lively and agreeable. An Englishman and 
his sister, as well as the three gentlemen who 
sit opposite, prove most entertaining. You will 
perhaps wonder at this statement when I add 
that the latter are deaf and dumb ; also that we 
do not seem to realize their inability to hear and 
speak. There are in their party twenty or thirty 
deaf-mutes, who are attending a congress at 
Dublin. One of them is from Philadelphia, and 
is an exceedingly fine man. 

In our whole party eight countries are repre- 
sented — England, Ireland, Scotland, America, 
Turkey, Armenia, India, and France. We ride 
on and on, through the beautiful country of 
Avondale, seeing many lovely bits of scenery. 
This is the home of Parnell. Many of the 
people come out of their shanties and cheer us, 
looking meanwhile for the pennies that are 
thrown to thern in return. 

Now we are in the valley, driving along pic- 
turesque wooded roads — now on the height of a 



56 The British Isles 

mountain path with the prospect stretching out 
miles before us. Here is the vale of Clara ; here 
Derry Bawn. The succession of charming views 
which delight the eyes seems endless. Indeed 
there is no portion of this region that is without 
interest. 

At last we are within sight of famous Glen- 
dalough, whose singular beauty and celebrated 
ruins are the subjects of many legends and tradi- 
tions. There are seven ruins of ancient churches 
in this region. I can do no better than to copy 
here some extracts from the guide book, for 
those who may be interested : 

" The founder of Glendalough was Kevin, 
signifying in Irish the fair born, whose descent 
on both sides was from the royal stock of Leins- 
ter. The date of his birth is unknown ; he died 
in the year 618. Shortly after being ordained a 
priest, Kevin withdrew to the wilderness of Glen- 
dalough, a valley shut in by lofty mountains, and 
lived here seven years as a hermit. His dwell- 
ing on the northern shore of the lake was a hollow 



Dublin, Bray, Picturesque Ireland 59 

tree ; on the southern shore he lived in a very- 
narrow cave, to which there was no access except 
by boat, for it is overhung by a perpendicular 
rock of great height. His retreat was discov- 
ered by a shepherd, and crowds flocked to see 
him. They built him a cell close to the south- 
ern shore of the lake, and an oratory hard by. 
This place soon became too small for the multi- 
tude of disciples who sought to dwell around his 
little church, and, at the bidding of an angel, he 
erected the monastery of " The Valley of the Two 
Lakes," which was the parent of many others. 
St. Saviour's Monastery is on the opposite side 
of the river. Here are also Kevin's Cross, 
Kevin's Kitchen, St. Mary's Church, Rhefert's 
Church, and other ruins." 

All these traditional spots are very interesting, 
and St. Kevin's Bed may be seen at the upper 
lake. There is a superstition that a wish made 
here will be fulfilled. 

On our return to Rathdrum a change of 
clothing, supplemented by a glass of " Irish 



60 The British Isles 

Mountain Dew," counteracts any tendency to 
take cold after our wet excursion. 

We meet here, as elsewhere, the well-known 
Irish wit, who has an answer ready for all ques- 
tions, and who triumphs over his opponent in 
repartee. 

The first thing we do on awakening this 
Sunday morning is to look out the window for 
the weather indications. Alas, the rain is coming 
down in torrents. We must go to Avoca, and the 
question is, Shall we travel by rail or coach? 
The road is most attractive. We wait, hoping it 
will clear. Yes, it does look brighter, and we 
order a close carriage with two horses. A vehicle 
appears which, I am sure, has not seen the day- 
light for a twelve month, and we start for Avoca, 
a distance of seven or eight miles. We have not 
gone far when our driver, a bright typical Irish- 
man, stops his horses, jumps out in the rain and 
comes to the carriage door to tell us that here is 
the first "Meeting of the Waters" where the 
Avonbeg and Avonmore Rivers unite and flow 



Dublin, Bray, Picturesque Ireland 61 

down the vale under the name of the Avoca — 
that this is the spot mentioned by Thomas Moore 
as the " valley so sweet.' ' We are in the valley of 
Cronbane, and have the pleasure of being shelt- 
ered for five minutes under the noble oak which 
shaded the poet when he wrote his famous verses : 

There is not in the wide world a valley so sweet 
As that vale in whose bosom the bright waters meet ; 
Oh ! the last rays of feeling and life must depart, 
Ere the bloom of that valley shall fade from my heart. 

Yet it was not that nature had shed o'er the scene 
Her purest of crystal and brightest of green ; 
•Twas not her soft magic of streamlet or hill, 
Oh ! no, — it was something more exquisite still. 

'Twas that friends, the beloved of my bosom, were near, 
Who made each dear scene of enchantment more dear, 
And who felt how the best charms of nature improve, 
When we see them reflected from looks that we love. 

Sweet vale of Avoca ! how calm could I rest 

In thy bosom of shade, with the friends I love best, 

Where the storms that we feel in this cold world 

should cease, 
And our hearts, like thy waters, be mingled in peace. 



62 The British Isles 

The railway runs through the Vale of Avon- 
dale, following the Avonmore River, which it 
crosses several times, affording exquisite glimpses 
of scenery, and passing the old copper and sulphur 
mines. Standing below the bridge, and looking 
up and down river and dale, wood and hill, we 
have a picture of rare beauty at this junction of 
the Avonmore and Avonbeg. From this point 
may be seen, airily poised on the mountain top, 
the beautiful Castle Howard, the seat of Howard 
Brooks. This enchanting spot is most inspiring. 
It really seems that if one would yield himself 
up to the spirit of the place, thoughts would flow 
in such poetry as that which has already won 
the plaudits of the world. I do not know, how- 
ever, what effect the present deluge might have 
upon the ardors of a poet. 

Moving on to Avoca, we soon reach an attract- 
ive hotel/The Wooden Bridge,' ' where we engage 
rooms for the day and night. Just below the hotel 
there is a second " Meeting of the Waters," where 
the River ^ughrim flows into the Avoca. 



Dublin, Bray, Picturesque Ireland 65 

We ride about this lovely country for sev- 
eral hours in a jaunting car. To-morrow we will 
make our way to New Ross, en route for Cork. 

Before bidding farewell to this beautiful, yes, 
very beautiful region, we ascend the mountain at 
the back of the hotel, in company with an agree- 
able Englishman, also a guest here. On the 
summit we have a fine view of the Vale, and a 
magnificent prospect of four mountains, a scene 
utterly beyond description. 

Farewell, sweet Vale of Avoca ; thy beauty 
is far greater than all the words that have been 
written in thy praise. 



Mountains and Lakes — 

Old Castles and Towns. 



Mountains and Lakes — Old Castles and 
Towns. 

An Irish Liberal — Arklow — Shelton Abbey — A Norman 
Castle — Enniscorthy — New Ross — Irishtown — The 
Steamer Ida— Waterford— The Top of the Hill— An 
Old Shanty — Cork — Patrick Street and Bridge — 
"The Bells of Shandon " — Blarney Castle— The 
Blarney Stone — A Scotch Lassie — Bantry — Glen- 
gariffe — St. Swithin and Rain — On the Road to 
Killarney — Tunnels — Kenmare — The Black Valley 
— The Upper Lake. 

HE train is fully an hour late, in conse- 
quence of an accident at the station 
above Avoca. While waiting for it we 
engage in conversation with an old Irish Liberal 
standing by ; a firm believer in the G. O. M. 
He is a brave old fellow ; very staunch and true. 
When I remark upon his boldness in expressing 
himself so freely, he replies that England is free 
in that respect. 

Our first station is Arklow, one of the most 




jo The British Isles 

important fishing places in Ireland. About a 
mile and a half farther on is the entrance to the 
demesne of Shelton, with its beautiful mansion, in 
the Abbey-Gothic style, surrounded by a fine 
park. Here, it is said, James II. spent a night 
during his memorable flight to Waterford, after 
the battle of the Boyne. 

Passing stations Covey and Ferns, with a 
view of Vinegar Hill in the distance, we approach 
Enniscorthy. An old Norman castle of fine 
architectural beauty looms up near us. This is a 
very pretty country. While not in such a 
high state of cultivation as the region about 
Dublin, it possesses a charm that captures the 
heart of the traveller. Enniscorthy is a thriving 
town, pleasantly situated on the River Slaney, in 
the midst of a smiling country. The old Norman 
castle in its centre was founded, it is said, by 
Raymond le Gros. In the reign of Elizabeth 
it was given to the poet Spenser as a residence, 
and was finally granted to Wallop, the founder of 
the Portsmouth family, who are lords of the soil. 



Mountains, Lakes, Old Castles, etc. j$ 

New Ross, seventeen miles from Enniscorthy, 
is a good town of more than six thousand inhabi- 
tants, situated on the River Barrow. Its ancient 
name is derived from the Irish word Ros, denot- 
ing a wooded point overhanging the river. 

We arrive here at 4.30 p.m., and proceed to 
the Royal Hotel. 

Although the rain is falling fast, we engage a 
jaunting car, and clad in waterproofs, go forth to 
see the town. This is necessary, as we leave 
early to-morrow, by the steamer Ida, for Water- 
ford. Our ride is well worth a ducking, for what 
we see here will never be forgotten. In New 
Ross are ancient houses, many of them doubtless 
several hundred years old, of one story, with 
stone floors, and in many of them stalls, which 
seem to have divided the family or families. 
Ragged and dirty people now inhabit these 
quarters, which are known as " Irishtown." 

With some difficulty I obtain photographs of 
the most interesting places passed in our drive. 
This is a grand opportunity for studying old and 



74 The British Isles 

typical Irish faces. These weather-beaten old 
men and women are most interesting. 

Leaving New Ross we sail down the River 
Barrow. It is a lovely day. The country along 
this winding stream is picturesque, although many 
of the homesteads are in a neglected condition — 
sad evidence of the poverty of their owners. 

In a couple of hours we behold, in the dis- 
tance, the town of Waterford, and soon find our- 
selves upon its shore. Now, our first questions 
are : " When do we leave?" and " How shall 
we go ? " 

Our tickets carry us from Waterford to 
Cappoquin, thence by steamer down the Black- 
water River to Youghal, and by rail to Cork : 
but we learn that the Blackwater is a small 
stream, and the steamer can make the trip only 
at high tide. To go by this route we must remain 
over night at Cappoquin, and take the boat in 
the morning. This does not suit us at all. Upon 
inquiry, we ascertain that we can take a train 
from Waterford this afternoon, change cars at 



Mountains, Lakes, Old Castles, etc. 75 

Fermoy and Mallow, and arrive in Cork this 
evening. Having decided on this course, we 
have several hours before us, so we go through 
the usual programme ; that is, take a jaunting car 
and see the town. 

In many of the villages and towns in the 
South of Ireland, the women wear a shawl 
thrown over the head, in place of a hat or bon- 
net. The custom is almost universal in these 
localities. 

Driving along the quay, the first object of 
interest to us is the ruin of an old tower, called 
" Reginald's Tower." The name Waterford, or 
the " Ford of the Father," was bestowed upon 
the town by the Danes. The place seems to 
have existed from a very early period, but it 
did not assume importance until the middle 
of the ninth century. The town, situated on 
the Suir, here crossed by a wooden bridge of 
thirty-nine arches, was anciently known as the 
" Haven of the Sun," and afterwards as the 
" Valley of Lamentation/ ' from the tremendous 



76 The British Isles 

conflicts which took place here between the Irish 
and the Danes. Reginald's Tower on the Mall, 
is on the site of the Danish stronghold founded 
by Reginald, son of Imar. In 171 1, when the 
town was seized by Strongbow and Raymond 
le Gros, all the Danes were put to death with the 
exception of the Prince and a few others. 

There is a good quay here and an attractive 
park ; also a Protestant church and a handsome 
Catholic edifice. The old clock is a fine piece of 
architecture. From its isolated position its face 
can be seen from a great distance. 

Although the quay is many blocks in extent, 
the principal business portion is confined to the 
radius of a few squares. There are many old 
stores, of little interest to the visitor. The people 
move slowly, and seem to lack utterly our 
"American rush." From the quay we drive to 
the top of the hill for a view of the town. 
As we ascend, we pass through the very old 
part of Waterford, and see many stone houses of 
one story, and such ancient dried-up specimens 



Mountains, Lakes, Old Castles, etc. 79 

of humanity peering through the windows and 
standing in the door- ways, that we seem to have 
come across a generation born at the time of the 
erection of their houses, several hundred years 
ago. 

We reach Cork safely shortly before nine 
o'clock in the evening, and go to the Royal 
Victoria Hotel. This morning we drive about 
the city ; now along the quay, which, at points 
here and there, shows signs of considerable 
activity ; now through the grounds of Queen's 
College, which are beautifully laid out, and 
extend over many acres. The college is an 
imposing granite structure. Now we are on 
Patrick Street, the principal shopping street of 
Cork. Here is Patrick's Bridge, a good substan- 
tial piece of architecture. 

Along the Sunday Well Road to the top of 
the hill we go, and have a fine view of the city. 
There are many beautiful churches in view ; the 
Cathedral of St. Finn Barr is the handsomest of 
these. There are also numerous large convents, 



80 The British Isles 

schools, and other institutions in Cork, and, as 
the population is somewhat less than a hun- 
dred thousand, it is astonishing that the place 
has been enriched with so many fine buildings. 
But we learn that the institutions are patronized 
by the adjoining counties, and are well filled at 
all times. 

From the hill-top we see in the distance Cork 
Harbor, and now St. Vincent's Chapel and 
School ; and now the Church of Shandon, made 
famous by the poem of the Rev. Francis Ma- 
honey— " The Sweet Bells of Shandon : " 

" With deep affection 
And recollection, 
I often think on 

Those Shandon bells, 
Whose sounds so wild would 
In the days of childhood, 
Fling round my cradle 

Their magic spells. 

'• I have heard bells chiming 
Full many a clime in, 
Tolling sublime in 
Cathedral shrine ; 



Mountains, Lakes, Old Castles, etc. 83 

While at a glib rate 

Brass tongues would vibrate, 

But all their music 

Spoke nought like thine." 

We take the tramway to Blarney Castle, 
which we reach after a pleasant but not especi- 
ally interesting ride of an hour. A guide with 
lighted candle leads us through the subterranean 
passage, where we see many small dungeons — 
horrible and dismal places, and cruel mementos 
of that barbarous age when a lifetime spent in 
those gloomy depths was no uncommon punish- 
ment. Blarney Castle was a lordly place in the 
days of its glory, commanding a fine view over 
lake and meadow, and the famous Groves of 
Blarney. Now the walls, from eight to ten feet 
thick, are a mass of ivy-covered ruins, and hap- 
pily there are only the landmarks of its places of 
torture, by which to measure the world's progress 
in civilization and education. 

Of course we see the wonderful Blarney 
Stone, which is said to impart the gift of elo- 



84 The British Isles 

quence to him who kisses it. The stone hangs 
at such a dizzy height that it is almost impossible 
to reach it, but I resort to an expedient, since 
"All is fair in love and war." Touching the 
stone with the end of my stick, I kiss that, and 
now feel gifted with enough Blarney words to 
bear me through the remainder of this earthly 
existence. 

This evening we attend a play at the Cork 
Opera House, and are disappointed in the drama, 
the acting and the actors, as well as in the audi- 
ence. Everything is second-rate. This is the 
only opera house or theatre in Cork. 

While at Blarney Castle we met a young 
Scotch lady from Ford Loch Awe, near Loch 
Gelphead, thirty miles from Oban. She was 
very entertaining, telling us that Scotland is such 
a "ferry pretty place," and that we would like 
her people, whose hospitality to strangers is such, 
that once their confidence is won, they become 
true and lasting friends. 

We start this morning for Bantry, on our 







u *>,_ fe 








,,„.. ". 




„ p /' «M 


-••-■' -.-A 


J 1 

■ 


■q 




Blarney Castle was a lordly place in the days of its 

GLORY ' ' 



Mountains, Lakes, Old Castles, etc. 8y 

way to Glengariffe. The train makes a long stop 
at Bandon — long enough for dinner — but when 
we reach the next station, which is named Desert, 
we wait hardly a minute, which brings forth many 
puns from the passengers, who declare that it is 
hardly fair, as the dessert is often the most lin- 
gering and delightful portion of the meal. 

At Bantry a large stage waits to take us to 
Glengariffe. Fourteen passengers beside our- 
selves " pile in," and away we go. The road 
wanders through some pretty scenery, now 
loitering along the bank of a mirror-like lake, 
now winding up the mountain side, till at last we 
halt before Roche's Hotel at Glengariffe. Of 
course we have had wet and dismal weather 
during the whole ride, and even now it is still 
raining. 

The hotel is clean and attractive in all its 
surroundings, and we find many pleasant people 
here. Although it rains, and the ground is not 
very agreeable for walking, we cannot stay in, 
for we long to explore the loveliness for which 



88 The British Isles 

this place is noted ; so, protecting ourselves 
against the weather, we sally forth upon the path 
directly in front of the hotel, which faces the 
lake. As we stand beside this water, which is 
a miniature of beauty, we hear the plashing of a 
fall, and inquire of some boys standing by where 
it is. They all, and there are six of them, vol- 
unteer to guide us to it. We assent gladly, and 
soon find ourselves in the midst of a picturesque 
scene. These walks should be named Lovers' 
Walks, for here Nature has done her utmost to 
render these secluded bowers enchanting in color 
and environment. We wander along this charm- 
ing bank until we come to a romantic little bridge, 
poised high up in the mountain, fully thirty feet 
above the water, which flows under it to the 
greater fall. 

We leave with reluctance this delightful spot, 
this lovely glen, where all is serene and full of 
rest and peace, but on the morrow we start early 
in the morning for Killarney, a journey of forty- 
two miles, to be accomplished by stage. 



Mountains, Lakes, Old Castles, etc. 91 

The Irish have great faith in the superstition 
associating St. Swithin with the rains at this time 
of the year. This is the legend : 

St. Swithin, Bishop of Winchester, when 
dying, requested to be buried in the churchyard 
of the Minster, that " the sweet rain of heaven 
might fall upon his grave." Later, when he was 
canonized, the monks thought to honor the saint 
by removing his body into the choir, and the 
15th of July was set for the ceremony; but it 
rained on that day, and for forty days afterwards, 
so violently that the monks gave up their design 
as contrary to the will of Heaven, and instead 
of removing the body, they showed their venera- 
tion by erecting a chapel over his grave. Hence 
the adage, " If it rains on St. Swithin's Day it 
will rain for forty days." As the forty days will 
end on the 24th of the month, it is predicted that 
we shall soon have fine weather. We would 
love dearly to see a clear day in Ireland. 

From Roche's we are driven in a trap to 
Eccles' Hotel, where we take the " coach and 



92 The British Isles 

four" for Killarney. There are sixteen other 
passengers for the same destination. 

The signal is given, the driver cracks his whip, 
and off we go in fine style. It is unfortunate 
that the day is rainy, as this will spoil much of 
our anticipated pleasure in the landscape around 
us. The horses go well, the party is a jolly one, 
and the driver entertains us with stories and droll 
speeches in answer to our many questions. We 
pass many interesting places as we ride merrily 
along ; among them Lord Bantry's demesne at 
Glengariffe, and as the road ascends, in spite of 
the rain, we have glimpses of magnificent scenery. 
Here, too, are quaint pictures of country life; 
and here are men driving pigs and horses, evi- 
dently on their way to market. Here is a pictur- 
esque church in a pretty bit of landscape. 

Several wagons drawn by "jacks," or don- 
keys, appear, each wagon containing one or two 
women and five or six children, beside the driver, 
and in every case the "jack " takes the trick as 
the cleanest of the party. 



Mountains, Lakes, Old Castles, etc. 95 

Most of the houses on the roadside are built 
of stone, but only one here and there is attractive 
or interesting. Now we pass through a tunnel 
cut through a picturesque portion of the mount- 
ain, and this proves to be the first of a series of 
three, each surpassing the former in romantic and 
beautiful surroundings. There is a great halloo 
and shouting as we pass in and out of these tun- 
nels, responded to by mocking shouts and laugh- 
ter from our invisible friend, the echo. We climb 
higher and higher, until we have attained an 
altitude of 1500 feet. A magnificent view here 
meets our eyes. Although it is raining, and 
there is a mist on the mountain top, we can see 
enough of the extensive prospect to excite our 
enthusiasm to the highest degree, and exclama- 
tions of " Magnificent !" " Superb !" " Sublime!" 
and the like are heard on all sides. Yonder is a 
little house nestling snugly on the mountain side, 
well sheltered from the cold winds of winter and 
the severe storms of summer. We ascend the 
mountains, sometimes ride long distances on the 



96 The British Isles 

summit, and descend on the opposite side. 
Though the people of this section of the country 
may possess little of worldly wealth, here are 
roads that should make old Philadelphia blush 
with shame. There is not a rut or hole visible 
anywhere. 

Time passes swiftly in social converse, and 
many of the passengers relate interesting experi- 
ences of their sojourn in foreign lands. Shortly 
after twelve o'clock we reach Kenmare, where 
we are allowed three-quarters of an hour for 
lunch. As we alight.we see the words " Hotel and 
Restaurant" over the windows of a very modest- 
looking house. Here, then, we must satisfy our 
hunger. The meal is abundant of its kind, but 
there is much confusion, in consequence of the 
demands of all the guests to be waited upon at 
once, and we all start in to help ourselves. How- 
ever,order prevails in a short time, and the good- 
natured Irish lasses pass the fried eggs, chops, 
ham, potatoes and other viands speedily around 
the table. 



Mountains, Lakes, Old Castles, etc. 99 

The little town of Kenmare is pleasantly 
situated on a bay which some one has said is the 
most beautiful in all Ireland ; but we have not 
time to explore its charming surroundings, for at 
one o'clock we must climb up to our places on 
the coach and proceed on our journey. 

We have now accomplished about twenty 
miles, nearly half the distance between Glen- 
gariffe and Killarney. The clouds lift from time 
to time and give us fleeting glimpses of this wild 
and beautiful country. Altogether it is a most 
delightful ride. 

We pass three gentlemen on their wheels, 
probably on their way from Killarney to Glen- 
gariffe, for our driver informs us that this is a 
favorite route of the cyclist. 

As we are ascending a mountain the clouds 
suddenly break away and disclose the scene 
below. A superb picture lies at our feet. This 
is Coom Dhuv, the Black Valley of Killarney. 
Off in the distance may be seen many streams 
shining at the foot of the mountain, their swish 



ioo The British Isles 

and rush rising to our ears, and sounding now 
near, now far away, as the breezes catch them 
up and bring them to us, or mingle their voices 
with the wild roar of the mountain torrents. 
This is a never-to-be-forgotten scene. Farther 
on the Gap of Dunloe bursts upon us. How 
shall I describe the wonderfully blended shades 
of exquisite color that here meet our eyes ? It is 
indeed impossible. These masterpieces of God 
are beyond description. 

At every turn new scenes of beauty appear. 
This gap is the famous gorge in the mountains 
around Killarney, and this region is the wildest 
and most beautiful portion of Ireland. The soul 
of the lover of beauty is satisfied — lakes, mount- 
ains, tranquil scenes, and weird, rugged, shadowy 
effects of gloomy grandeur, smiling, joyous, 
laughing, frolicsome moods of Nature, all pass 
before us in infinite and magnificent variety. 

We have a full view of the Upper Lake, and 
see in the distance the next tunnel through which 
we will pass. Here our driver tells us that the 



Mountains, Lakes, Old Castles, etc. 103 

mountain opposite is Eagle's Nest. It is fitly 
named : a noble eyry for a noble bird. 

We are now on the Kenmare Road, and near 
the end of our journey. The Earl of Kenmare, 
we learn, owns large estates here and in Kil- 
larney, hence we frequently hear such names as 
Kenmare Castle, Kenmare Woods, etc. 

At last we turn from the main road on which 
we have passed through Killarney, and enter the 
long lane on our left, which leads to the Royal 
Victoria Hotel, and it is five o'clock when we 
enter its hospitable doors. 



The Gap of Duriloe — 

Romantic Ireland. 



The Gap of Dunloe — Romantic Ireland. 

The Royal Victoria Hotel — Ross Castle — To the Gap — 
Kate Kearney's Cottage — Fairy Glen — Serpent Lake 
— St. Patrick's Cottage — Macgillicuddy's Reeks — 
Five Islands — The Long Range — " The Happy 
Family" — Shooting the Rapids — The Old Bridge — 
Toothache Bridge — Bricken Bridge — Devil's Island 
— Muckross Abbey — Colleen Bawn Rock — Tore 
Mountain — Limerick — The Theatre Royal — River 
Shannon — Kilrush. 

fflpFSBJ is fortunate that we telegraphed for a 
E*§ 33 room here, for many tourists who did 
not take this precaution have been turned 
away. The short walk in front of this hotel can 
hardly be surpassed in beauty. The hotel itself 
is very attractive, and its genial manager provides 
good cheer for his numerous family. In the 
dining-room there is a long table capable of 
accommodating fifty-two persons, besides the 
many small tables. The service is first-class. 
After resting, we take a walk through a por- 

107 



108 The British Isles 

tion of the Earl of Kenmare's grounds, and 
wander on till we come upon the old Ross Castle, 
from which there is a fine view. This is a pic- 
turesque ruin, covered with ivy, the ancient home 
of the O'Donoghues, and filled with historical 
associations. There are here beautiful views on 
every side. It is hardly necessary to say that we 
were caught in a shower. Anticipating this, we 
are prepared for it. 

To-day we rise early, for the day is fine, and 
we have on hand the most important excursion 
of Killarney — a trip to the famous Gap of Dunloe. 
We are to proceed by car and on foot or horse- 
back, and wind up with a row on the lake back 
to our hotel. This expedition will occupy about 
eight hours. Our car is waiting before the hotel, 
and we start at ten o'clock. A drive of eleven 
or twelve miles brings us to the entrance of the 
Gap. During the latter part of this ride we are 
besieged by innumerable old men and women, 
girls and boys, who have flowers, photographs, 
canes and other articles for sale. 



The Gap of Dunloe, etc. in 

The Gap is a wild ravine through the mount- 
ains, with rocks on either side rising to an enor- 
mous height. Near the entrance an unattractive 
cottage is pointed out as the home of the beautiful 
Kate Kearney. Here one may, if he wishes, 
refresh himself with a drink of goat's milk. The 
place is so dirty, and the handmaids in charge so 
untidy, that we do not avail ourselves of this 
opportunity. Our driver now leaves us, and we 
find horses waiting for those who care to ride 
through the Gap and around the mountain to the 
lake where we take the boat. We are all ready, 
and off we start. At the very outset we are sur- 
rounded by women and girls who worry the life 
out of one with their importunities to buy milk, 
whiskey, etc. They deluge us with persuasive 
compliments. One old woman tells me that she 
has many daughters so beautiful that it would 
break the heart of St. Patrick himself to see them 
leave auld Ireland, but I am 'that fascinatin', that 
she will give me my choice of these fairies of 
the Gap. 



112 The British Isles 

The scene is one of great grandeur. The 
mountains on either side, dark, wild and barren, 
rise to a height of twenty-seven hundred feet. 
The path by which we ascend is steep and narrow. 
Now and then the ladies stop their horses to 
give us a breathing spell. When they turn to 
look for us they find us the centre of a group 
of young girls, who merrily try to sell us some- 
thing to eat or drink. 

No words can do justice to the scene around 
us. The enormous boulders and the crystal 
waters of the lake, each add an individual charm 
to our surroundings. Here is Fairy Glen, and 
here is Serpent Lake, where, according to tradi- 
tion, St. Patrick vanquished the last snake in 
Ireland. The legend runs thus : When St. 
Patrick banished the snakes, one old serpent 
resisted, but the saint overcame it by cunning. 
He made a box and invited the serpent to enter 
it. The serpent insisted that it was too small, 
and there ensued so much contention over the 
matter that the serpent at last crawled into the 



The Gap of Dunloe, etc. 1 1 5 

box to prove that it was right ; upon which 
St. Patrick slammed down the lid and threw the 
box into the lake. 

In confirmation of this legend, I may here 
state that we have tramped over bog and moss, 
and through the most tangled underbrush, with- 
out perceiving the slightest evidence of the 
fanged intruder in this country. Glory and 
honor to St. Patrick, and may no iconoclast 
grudge him his meed of praise. 

The cottage of the Saint stands at the road- 
side, and here whiskey and some kinds of fruit 
can be purchased by the wayfarer. While rest- 
ing here we hear soft sweet music, which is 
caught up by the echoes, and repeated over and 
over again in fairy-like tones. When they 
appear, the musicians, however, are anything but 
fairy-like. 

We gaze long and silently at the scene. It 
inspires one with new thoughts to view these 
wonders of Nature : the massive rocks, the 
mountains, the lake ! The intense stillness which 



u6 The British Isles 

surrounds us leaves upon the mind a strange 
and dreamlike impression, as of existence in 
another realm. 

We continue the ascent until the mountain 
top is reached, and here we have an extensive 
view of the Reeks, which stretch away for miles, 
till the cottages seem mere specks on the mount- 
ain sides. Descending on the opposite side, we 
pass many simple cottages, from whose doors 
children run to us for pennies. 

A pleasant walk of a mile or so brings us to 
the Upper Lake, where a large boat and two 
oarsmen are waiting to convey us to our hotel. 
We are somewhat fatigued with our five-mile 
tramp, and quite ready for the large hamper of 
good things sent to us from the hotel. 

Our companions on this trip are a young 
vicomte and his wife, who are making their 
bridal tour. They are both agreeable and 
entertaining. 

Near the lake is a very pretty cottage, for- 
merly the property of Lord Brandon, now owned 




The musicians, however, are anything but fairy-like 



The Gap of Dunloe, etc. 119 

by Mr. Herbeit, the holder of thousands of 
acres in this part of the country. 

We are rowed slowly over the lake, passing, 
among others, five picturesque and celebrated 
islands, known as McCarthy's, Rowland's, Eagle, 
Duck and Juniper. These islands are covered 
with magnificent trees, and afford a great variety 
of wonderful views. 

The Lakes of Killarney are set as in a bowl, 
in the hollow of the lofty mountains, whose bare 
summits are constantly swept by storms from the 
Atlantic. They are as a whole otherwise called 
Lough Lean, from being surrounded by high 
mountains. The trees which grow by these 
waters are the oak, yew, birch, hazel, mountain 
ash, and others, the greenest and most beautiful 
of all being the magnificent arbutus, which gleams 
out amid the forests, and haunts one with its 
vitality, when the tramp of the long day is done, 
and its pictures come back to rest with us in the 
twilight. 

Yonder is the Purple Mountain, rising more 



120 The British Isles 

than twenty-seven hundred feet above the sea. 
Its purple effect is caused by the abundance of 
slate protruding from its sides, and in the sunlight 
it presents a truly royal appearance. On the 
opposite side is Tore Mountain, nearly eighteen 
hundred feet high. Here are Colman's Eye and 
Colman's Leap. Colman was once lord of the 
Upper Lake ; in a quarrel with the O'Donoghue, 
being closely pursued by his adversary, he made 
the famous leap over the lake which has given 
his name to this point. 

We are now on the Long Range, that beauti- 
ful body of water which connects the Upper and 
Lower Lakes, and which is sometimes called the 
Middle Lake. The mountains towering above 
us in their immensity make us feel our insignifi- 
cance. The old boatman tells us that these 
mountains are called "The Happy Family," as 
they never fall out or have trouble. 

We are under the shadow of Eagle's Nest, 
noted for its beautiful echo. We have no bugle 
to arouse the sleeping spirit of melody, but we 



The Gap of Dunloe, etc. 123 

call forth the famous voices again and again in 
our own merry way, and listen to their repeti- 
tions with ever-increasing delight. 

Now we are about to shoot the rapids under 
old Weir Bridge. There is some little excitement, 
although this is not a dangerous experiment, as, 
for instance, shooting the rapids at Niagara. We 
glide through the water swiftly and safely. This 
old bridge is said to be the most ancient one in 
Ireland. Tradition carries it back to mythical 
ages. 

And here again is the " Meeting of the 
Waters," as they flow around Dinish Island, upon 
which there is a pretty little cottage for the con- 
venience of visitors. 

In the distance is a small wooden bridge, to 
which, we are told, is attached the superstition 
that whoever washes his teeth with the water that 
flows under it will never suffer from toothache. 
Of course we all make use of this wonderful 
remedy while passing under the bridge. If a 
tourist with a kodak should happen along at this 



124 The British Isles 

moment, he might obtain a curious picture. A 
lady from our hotel informs me that she suffered 
greatly from toothache until availing herself of 
this prescription. Since then she has been per- 
fectly free from it. The bridge is known as 
" Toothache Bridge." 

This mountain scenery is wild and pictur- 
esque. Deer and rabbits abound here ; also 
pheasants, quails and other game. The country 
is romantic as we approach the old Brickeen 
Bridge. Much has been written of the beauty 
of this locality, and indeed too much cannot be 
said in praise of any portion of this region. We 
are in the midst of a series of rich and varied 
views, of which each new one seems more 
charming than the last. Our hotel is now 
directly opposite on the Lower Lake, and four 
miles and a half distant. 

Devil's Island is one of the many small 
islands around us. I do not know the origin of 
the name, but suppose, from the appearance of 
the rocks, that at some period they have been 



The Gap of Dunloe, etc. 127 

subjected to intense heat. Perhaps they have 
served as a soup bowl for his satanic majesty. 

At last we are at home again, at half-past 
five in the afternoon, a little weary in mind and 
body, but all declaring that this has been a 
" Red Letter " day, the very best we have spent 
since we set foot on good old Irish soil. The 
entire day has been clear and pleasant, a rare 
thing at this season. 

This afternoon we make a little tour in a 
jaunting car, going first to Muckross Abbey in 
the demesne of Captain Herbert. By paying a 
shilling we gain admission to the beautiful 
grounds and the old abbey, which was founded 
in 1 340 by the Franciscans on the site of an 
ancient church. There are many old tombs 
here, and such names as O 'Sullivan, M'Carthy, 
O'Donoghue are frequently seen. Here is Col- 
leen Bawn Rock, recalling to our minds the play 
of this name which we saw in Cork. The scene 
was laid in this region. 

Tore Mountain is our next destination. 



128 The British Isles 

Before proceeding thither we have a fine view of 
the mountain from Dinish Cottage. Upon reach- 
ing the foot of the mountain, we are surprised to 
learn that we must each pay sixpence for admis- 
sion. However we are becoming accustomed 
to this gentle reminder of the poverty of these 
land kings, so paying the fee, we ascend the 
mountain. The first object to claim our atten- 
tion is the cascade, a large stream of water, leap- 
ing from its eyry and rushing with roar and foam 
over the broken ledges of rock, amid green trees 
and luxuriant foliage, to its bed among the grace- 
ful ferns below. On each side precipitous rocks, 
covered with luxuriant foliage, and close by on 
the left rises the mountain, from whose height 
we have a magnificent view, embracing miles upon 
miles of country. The distant trees and other 
objects appear like mere specks upon the picture. 
We enjoy the fine prospect and pure atmos- 
phere for some time, and, descending, observe 
the remarkable collection of natural ferns and 
other plants for which this spot is noted. 



The Gap of Dunloe, etc. 131 

This morning, when the hotel " bus ' ' drives 
up to the door to carry passengers to the railway 
station, we respond regretfully to our names on 
the roll of those who are leaving beautiful Kil- 
larney, with its delightful walks and rides, and 
picturesque lakes and mountains. At 11.30 we 
start for Limerick, en route for Kilkee. 

In order to take the steamer trip down the 
River Shannon, we remain over night at Lim- 
erick, stopping at the Glentworth Hotel, whose 
accommodations are only fair. 

Limerick, a small place of about forty 
thousand souls, offers little to interest visitors. It 
is divided into three parts — the Irishtown, the 
Englishtown, and Newtown Perry, which are 
connected by bridges. The main street of New- 
town Perry is a long and handsome one. We 
take a car for a short ride about the place. The 
old Thomond Bridge and King John's Castle are 
the most noteworthy objects, but our limited 
stay leaves us no time for them. 

This evening we pay three and fivepence each, 



132 The British Isles 

and seat ourselves in the best seats in the bal- 
cony of the Theatre Royal, curious to see a play 
in old Limerick. This is the only theatre in 
town, and a queer place it is. The curtain rises 
at exactly eight o'clock, but the audience, num- 
bering about fifty or sixty persons, makes no 
demonstration at this fact, the men keeping their 
hats on, and even smoking in the gallery above 
us. 

The play is not badly rendered, but the 
orchestra amuses us more than the acting. It is 
composed of five would-be musicians — leader, 
first and second violin, pianist, cornetist, and flute 
player. They begin with a discord, and the 
leader calls to the flute player that he is not in 
time; then, loudly enough to be heard by the 
whole audience, he orders the second violin to 
play G sharp. Finally the discord is such that 
the leader stops playing and begins to tune one 
of his violin strings, while the other players con- 
tinue their jargon of unmusical sounds. The 
leader frequently calls out : " One — two — three," 



The Gap of Dunloe, etc. 133 

keeping time with his bow, and trying to make 
them play in harmony. 

This is to us the most laughable farce, while 
to the audience the orchestra is, without doubt, 
the Sousa or Gilmore Band of Limerick. The 
entertainment reminds me of an anecdote told 
me in this country. A minister invited some 
visitors to his church, remarking that they had a 
" fool " (full) choir, and that good singing might 
be expected. Is the Limerick orchestra also a 
" fool" orchestra? 

This morning we bid farewell to the ancient 
town, and board the steamer Shannon, for our 
trip down the beautiful river which divides the 
counties of Limerick and Clare. The Shannon 
is from four to seven miles wide. It is a glorious 
river, broad and deep, flowing a distance of two 
hundred miles from its source to the sea, and 
watering ten Irish counties. The scenery near 
Limerick is very beautiful, the day is fine, and in 
the deep blue sky heavy white clouds form 
mountains upon mountains, until one could 



134 The British Isles 

almost imagine himself viewing the Arctic 
regions. The captain sits beside us and tells 
many stories of the victims this great body of 
water has made of the foolhardy. 

At 12.45 we reach Kilrush, the end of our 
voyage, and here we have two hours before 
taking train for Kilkee. 

What an ancient and dirty-looking place this 
is ! Here, indeed, one sees " the w T ide waste of 
all-devouring years." At the junction of three 
streets, about forty old men and women, dressed 
in rags, are selling potatoes, apples and cabbages, 
which are piled up in the street and quickly 
measured out to those who wish to purchase. 
The shops are dusty and dingy, and the children, 
with rare exceptions, look as if water is as great 
a stranger to them as is their good sovereign. 

So we learn by comparison the progress of 
the different nations, and observe in its superior 
march in the realms of intellect, which is destined 
to be queen of all the nations. 



Kilkee, Galway, Gifden, Sligo, 
by Rail and River. 



Kilkee, Galway, CUfden, Sligo, by Rail 
and River. 

Kilkee — The Cliffs — Dunlicky Castle and Bishop's Island 
— "Evicted Houses" — The Main Street — Caves of 
Kilkee — Keeping the Sabbath — Galway — Eyre 
Square —Church of St. Nicholas — Salmon Leap — 
Fish Market— Salt Hill— On the Road to Clifden— 
The New Railroad —Rainbow — Clifden — On the Way 
to Westport — Letterfrack — Kylemore Castle — Lee- 
nane — Westport — Ride to Sligo — The Rapids — 
Ballysodare — Sligo — Lough Gill — Our Old Driver — 
The White Donkey — Stories by the Way — Drum- 
cliffe Round Tower — Cliffs on the Glencar — Going 
for Turf — Bundoran. 



,IME is up, and we are on the road to 

) Kilkee, a distance of nine miles, which 

is soon accomplished. This is the end 



of our day's journey. We drive with our grips 
to Moore's Hotel, which is considered the best 
in the place. As we leave for Galway at half- 
past eight to-morrow morning, we must see as 
much of this town as possible in the intervening 

137 



138 The British Isles 

time. It faces the broad Atlantic, and is deemed 
one of the most charming watering-places in Ire- 
land, being surrounded by beautiful cliff scenery. 

We ride some fifteen miles in a jaunting car, 
around by the cliff or ocean side, and home by 
the banks of the Shannon. The scenery by the 
cliffs is most grand. One should see these rocks 
to appreciate them. I can give no idea in words 
of the impression made by the vast space below 
us. Seen from the steamers that pass this way, 
these perpendicular rocks, towering high above 
the water's edge, seem like giant sentinels guard- 
ing the pretty town. In winter the spray is so 
great that it is impossible to walk on this road, 
and during some of the storms it is said to be 
blinding. 

We observe queer nooks and caves in the 
rocks, worn by the constant beating of the waves. 
The largest cave is about two miles from the 
town, and is best visited by boat. The entrance 
to it is sixty feet in height, and we are told that 
its interior is very beautiful. 



Kilkee, Galway, Clifden, Sligo 141 

Interesting points abound in this neighbor- 
hood. As we ride we come upon a fine view of 
the town of Kilkee, and a charming picture it 
makes, with the rocks and ocean in the fore- 
ground. In the distance is Bishop's Island, with 
many sheep grazing on its fine pasturage. As we 
approach Dunlicky Castle, we note the massive 
strength of its walls, which have withstood the 
winds and storms of ages. Tradition says the 
mortar was mixed with cow's blood ; hence its 
great power of adhesion. 

In many places these picturesque caves run 
clear through the masses of rock. We pass 
several houses in ruins on our way back to the 
hotel, and are told by our driver that they are 
" evicted houses," the tenants having been turned 
out for being unable to pay the rent. On the main 
street some few signs of life are visible, for here 
are the various shops and other business places. 
An old farmer goes along before us with his 
wagon and pen of hogs, and here is another with 
a load of peat or turf; passing from one curious 



142 The British Isles 

and often pitiable sight to another, we frequently 
exclaim : " Why do not these poor souls leave 
this distressed country and seek better homes in 
America? " 

This morning, Sunday, I try to persuade an 
old boatman to row us through the caves of 
Kilkee, one especially, which is said to be grand 
beyond description ; but he will not do so for 
any Compensation that I may offer : " No, not 
for fifteen pounds," as he expresses it. I ask 
why there is such a superstition about going 
through the caves on Sunday, and am informed 
that many years ago there was a period when 
the fish seemed to shun this coast, and there was 
great distress among the people in consequence. 
The fishermen, fearing they were going to lose 
forever their means of livelihood, sought in a 
body the advice and assistance of the Catholic 
Church. Ten bishops were sent to Kilkee, to 
intercede with the Creator for the restoration of 
the fish to this coast. The fishermen assembled, 
and as the bishops besought the Lord to return 



Kilkee, Galway, Clifden, Sligo 145 

to these poor souls their only means of subsist- 
ence as in past years, the men solemnly promised 
to keep the Sabbath in holy reverence forever. 
From that day, it is said, God restored their 
treasure, and the fishermen have kept their vow. 
Nothing can induce them to move one jot on the 
Sabbath. 

We leave Kilkee on the morning train for 
Ennistymon, thence, in consequence of heavy 
rains, we proceed by rail to Galway, although 
our plan was to travel from Ennistymon to 
Ballyvaughan by jaunting car, and take the 
steamer over the bay to Galway. So we journey 
via Athenry to Galway, arriving at 2.30 p. m., 
and take up our quarters at Mack's Royal Hotel. 
As usual, we start out almost immediately in a 
jaunting car, to view the sights of the town. 
There is much to interest us here. Galway pre- 
sents a strange mixture of poverty and prosperity. 
There are many untenanted and ruined houses 
here, while in the main streets there are new and 
fine-looking shops, new thoroughfares being 



146 The British Isles 

opened up, and modern villas erected in the 
suburbs. Here and there we see traces of Span- 
ish architecture in odd gate-ways and square 
court-yards. Eyre Square, in the heart of the 
town, is a large enclosure, laid out in walks, and 
planted with trees, and close by is the church of 
St. Nicholas, in a corner of which is the notable 
tablet commemorating that Warden of Galway 
who, according to tradition, assisted at the execu- 
tion of his own son. This is a fine old building, 
containing some interesting monuments, and a 
picturesque view of the town and its environments 
may be seen from its steeple. 

Lynch' s Castle, in Shop Street, is one of those 
ancient dwellings, whose fine and curious sculpt- 
ure and noble coat of arms evince the former 
grandeur of this place. The ground floor is a 
grocery store, the windows and doors are orna- 
mented with rich carving, and upon the roof are 
gargoyles to throw off the water. These quaint 
buildings and the primitive ways of some of the 
people render this a delightful place to visit. 




We have never seen their like before 



Kilkee, Gal way, Clifden, Sligo 149 

We pass several boat clubs, among them the 
Royal Club ; and here is the Salmon Leap, where 
the fish are caught in great numbers with line 
and net. The old fishermen may be seen at the 
fish market at Salt Hill. On our way thither we 
pass the steamer which runs across Galway Bay. 
It is called The Citie of Tribes. 

Before we reach Salt Hill, which faces the 
bay, we come to the Claddagh, close by the 
harbor, which is inhabited by a purely Celtic 
population, numbering about four thousand. 
They are all fishermen, and it is impossible to 
conceive of a more curious, ancient-looking 
place. People, houses, everything connected with 
this spot seem old, excepting the fish exposed 
for sale. 

The town is composed of miserable cabins of 
mud and stone, the great number of them window- 
less. They are now having a fish sale, and it is 
an odd sight. I have obtained a few photographs 
of these typical old folk of Ireland. They are 
so interesting to us that I tear we transgress all 



150 The British Isles 

the rules of etiquette in our wondering observa- 
tion, for we have never seen their like before. 

It is the hour at which the long jaunting car 
leaves Galway for Clifden, a journey of fifty-two 
miles. Bidding farewell to this peculiar place, 
we start off with six other passengers. 

The gentleman and lady beside us are Glas- 
gow people, from whom we learn much regard- 
ing routes, etc., which will prove useful when 
travelling in their country. Our car is the mail 
car. A railroad between Galway and Clifden 
was finished only six weeks ago, but as the con- 
tract with the coach line has not yet expired, the 
latter still carries the mail between the two cities. 
As we plod along in our primitive way, we hear 
the shrill whistle of a locomotive, and see the 
train speeding over the new road, and, viewing 
the two modes of travel, the old and the new, I 
am impressed with the perseverance and progress 
of man, in pushing capital into quarters so firmly 
stamped with the spirit of antediluvianism. 

The road is exceptionally good, though hilly 



Kilkee, Galway, Clifden, Sligo 153 

in places. We are surprised at the great quantity 
of stone in this region. Field after field, for 
many miles, is filled with this serious obstacle to 
agriculture. Here is a long deep cut, through 
which the new railroad passes. The scenery 
along the whole route is picturesque and full of 
interest. At times the rain comes down, dampen- 
ing our ardor somewhat, but taking it altogether 
we are as jolly and happy as though the sun was 
master of the situation. 

Ahead of us loom the "Twelve Pins," a 
grand collection of tall mountain peaks on either 
side of the road. At this point the sun peeps 
out for a few moments, and its reflection on the 
mist forms one of the most perfectly arched 
rainbows that I have ever seen. It is in blocks 
of pure color, as though one has taken his brush 
and painted solid lines of blue, green, yellow 
and red. 

So many lovely scenes pass before us that 
the eye is almost wearied by the constant succes- 
sion of picturesque views, 



154 The British Isles 

The day is raw and chilly, and, though it is 
anti-temperance, one finds a little " nip " very 
comforting in the face of a wet ride, but we reach 
Clifden in time for a good hot supper at Mul- 
larkey's Hotel, and soon " Richard's himself 
again." 

In Clifden itself there is little to interest the 
stranger. It is built at the centre of " one of 
those numerous indentations in the land which 
give the name Connamara, that is, Bays of the 
Sea." At the back of the town rise the moun- 
tains, while in front is the Bay of Ardbear, and 
beyond, the Atlantic Ocean. Yet we could pass 
a few days here very happily had we the time. 
Clifden Castle is a rather fine-looking building, 
modern in style, standing in the valley among 
sheltering trees, and here the scene is one of 
great beauty. The cliffs overlooking the bay 
tempt us to linger within sight of the boundless 
sea and purple hills. 

We are called at seven this morning, for we 
are to breakfast at eight, as our car leaves at 



Kilkee, Galway, Clifden, Sligo 157 

nine o'clock sharp for Westport, some forty-two 
miles distant. The day is damp and there is so 
much mist that we all fear there is rain ahead, 
but the ride is fine, in spite of these disadvantages. 
We make a short stop at Letterfrack, a small vil- 
lage, pretty, neat and comfortable looking, which, 
it is said, owes its prosperity to the Society of 
Friends, who have reclaimed a great part of the 
surrounding country. 

Now we come to a wild mountain pass, 
where the rocks are piled up to a great height, 
and in many places jut far out over the road. 
There is a dense growth of trees extending from 
base to summit. Soon after we find ourselves 
within sight of the beautiful and picturesque 
Kylemore Castle, the residence of Mr. Mitchell 
Henry. The scene here is superb. The lake 
lies in front of the handsome structure, while in 
the background are lofty and precipitous moun- 
tains. Nothing can be more romantic. The 
mountains about here are fully two thousand feet 
high. The illustration shows the castle as seen 



158 The British Isles 

from our car. The picture is one which cannot 
soon be forgotten. 

For many miles the road is bounded by- 
hedges made of fuchsias. At one o'clock we 
stop at Leenane, where we are allowed a half 
hour for dinner. There is a cosy little hotel 
here, and we soon find provisions to which we 
do ample justice. Fresh horses are put in, and 
we are away again along the road amid fine and 
extensive views. We follow Lake Killery for 
many miles, now and then seeing a fisherman 
hauling in his net or fishing from a boat. The 
wild and rugged aspect of the neighboring moun- 
tains imparts a grandeur to this portion of the 
country which is wholly its own. At times it 
rains quite fast ; then the clouds seem to lighten, 
and we have hopes of clearing weather. But 
these hopes are not fulfilled ; it rains during the 
remainder of the journey. 

What a damp party we are : wraps, coats, 
gloves, hats, umbrellas, everything, dripping as 
we draw up before the spacieus Railway Hotel at 



Kilkee, Galway, Clifden, Sligo 161 

Westport. The rooms in this hotel are utterly 
disproportionate in size, what they call a " large " 
room being twenty feet by sixty, while the 
" small" ones are six feet by ten (why, the Irish 
architect alone knows). When asked which kind 
of a room we wish, we inquire if there is not a 
happy medium that we can have, between the 
two. But this is impossible, so we content our- 
selves with the " large " chamber. It seems 
wild and " eerie," and throughout the night 

" a thousand fantasies 
Begin and throng into my memory, 
Of calling shapes and beckoning shadows dire, 
And airy tongues that syllable men's names, 
And sands, and shores, and desert wildernesses." 

Westport is an uninteresting town, and we 
do not wish to remain here longer than is neces- 
sary to recover from the fatigue of the long ride 
from Clifden. We take the Midland Great West- 
ern Railway for Ballina, and arriving there in due 
time, proceed to Moy's Hotel. After lunching, 
we take our places in the large jaunting car that 



1 62 The British Isles 

leaves for Sligo, forty-six English miles distant. 
This is a delightful ride. Many picturesque 
mountains are on our right, while on the left we 
have charming glimpses of the ocean. 

This northern section of the country is under 
better cultivation, and the soil is much richer 
than the southern districts. Here are many pigs, 
" the gentlemen who pay the rent." Now and 
then I jump off the car and walk. The road is 
very interesting, as one after another, the mile- 
stones on our left appear and vanish in the dis- 
tance. Our horses, though slow, are sure, and 
although there are clouds, we have no rain — 
which is a blessing. 

Passing over a small bridge, and making a 
turn in the road, we come upon the Rapids 
Ballysodare which fall into the bay over a series 
of rocky ledges, forming a beautiful picture. In 
the distance we behold the town of Sligo and a 
portion of Lough Gill. 

Some of these Irish towns present lovely 
views as we approach them. The different 




We have an old driver, full of Irish wit and history 



Kilkee, Galway, Clifden, Sligo 165 

church spires, rising above the other buildings, 
silently impress one with the Christian atmosphere 
of the community. Crossing the old Sligo 
Bridge, we drive through Knox Street, and at 
last halt before the Imperial Hotel. A rather 
attractive hall meets our eyes ; rooms are 
assigned us, and after a good supper, we retire 
for the night. 

The regular mail jaunting car leaves Sligo at 
6.30 a. m. and at 3 p. m. One hour is too early, 
the other too late for us, so our accommodating 
host engages a private car to take us to Bundoran, 
twenty-three miles distant. The fare for a small 
one-horse car is sixpence a mile. We start off 
with all our traps at ten o'clock. It is a magnif- 
icent day. While clouds float in the sky, they 
form themselves into beautiful effects, and there 
is enough blue to make several pairs of trousers, 
so we are confident that the weather will favor 
us. The prospect is beautiful, both near and 
distant. Majestic mountains, rising to wonder- 
ful heights, impress us more and more with the 



1 66 The British Isles 

supreme power of the Heavenly Father, who 
sustains and beautifies His creations for the joy 
of His children. 

While the country engages our attention, it 
does not monopolize it, for we have an old 
driver, full of Irish wit and history. 

"On every point, in earnest or in jest 

His judgment and his prudence and his wit 

Were deem'd the very touchstone, and the test 
Of what was proper, graceful, just and fit." 

He more than answers all our questions. 
What a success he would be in America as the 
serio-comic man. On the way we pass a field 
in which a white donkey is grazing. 

"That donk'," he says, pointing to it, "is a 
fortunate baste." 

" Why so ?" is asked. 

" Well," says the old driver, " do you see 
that house on the fir hill ?" 

We see it. 

" In that house lived an old man, who all his 
life had a great likin' for that white donk'. About 



1 


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1 jl 


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1 *^^^^gj 







Kilkee, Galway, Clifden, Sligo 169 

two year ago the old man died, and, would ye 
belave it, he willed a pace of ground to the old 
donk'. Yes, ye can see it on yer left. That field 
is to be the donk's as long as Mr. Donk lives. 
And from that day to this, I have passed that 
white donk', and never a bit of work have I seen 
him do, an' shure I'm tellin' yez the truth." 

So he goes on from one story to another, 
sometimes relating events that happened " over 
yon," when he was a boy. " Ha ! ha ! ha ! 
Shure, I must tell yez of the time when we had 
the big blow on yonder mountain. I was 
walkin' along one morning when I met old Paddy 
O'Hea. Sez Paddy, sez he : ' Good mornin', Dan.' 
" Sez I to Paddy : ' Good mornin' to yez.' 
An' Paddy sez, ' It's a good mornin',' an' sez I 
to Paddy, ' It's a lyin' yer after.' 

" Then Paddy sez to me : ' Did ye hear the 
news, Dan ?' 

" ' In faith, I did not, when I was not there.' 

" Sez Paddy : ' It was a smart blow we were 
havin' last night.' 



170 The British Isles 

" Sez I : ' Faith, I- know that.' 

" ' The roof of the old mill blowed off/ sez 
Paddy. 

" < The divil,' sez I. * Yes,' says Paddy. 

" ' Ha ! ha ! ha ! Shure, what are ye given' 
me?' sez I. 

" < An',' sez Paddy : ' Ha ! ha ! ha ! Did ye 
know old Johnny OToole?' 

"'Well did I.' 

" ' Johnny was on top of his hay poil in the 
field, when the wand caught the poil o' hay, an' 
carried Johnny two mile yon.' 

" ' Och,' sez I, ' It's lyin' ye are.' 
" ' In faith it's thrue,' sez Paddy. * Ha ! ha ! 
ha ! Them was great days.' " 

His stories are numberless, and we are so 
well entertained that the time passes quickly. 

Here is Drumcliffe with its beautiful round 
tower, a historic ruin. There is very fine scenery 
here, with the sea on one side and the mountains 
on the other. As we approach the Cliffs on the 
Glencar, the brilliant effect of the sun on the 



Kilkee, Galway, Clifden, Sligo 173 

rocks is very striking. We pass many children 
on donkeys, with baskets on either side, going 
for turf. The picture on the opposite page is a 
truthful representation of what one often sees in 
this section of the country. There are many odd 
sights, but all are interesting. Ofttimes a small cart 
drawn by a donkey will go by, with Paddy and his 
old lady comfortably enjoying their drive. And, 
so we ride on and on, until our driver points out 
the town of Bundoran, and we are both glad and 
sorry that our journey has come to an end, for 
the day is delightful, the country charming, and 
our driver has done his best to enliven the way. 



Famous Irish Towns and Their 
Industries 

The Giant's Causeway 



Famous Irish Towns and their Industries — 
The Giant's Causeway. 

Bundoran — Along the Cliffs— Ballyshannon— Falls of 
Erne— Belleek Pottery — Lough Erne — Crevinish 
Castle — Devenish Abbey and Round Tower — Ennis- 
killen — Londonderry — Lough S willy — The Old Wall 
— Portrush — The Giant's Causeway — Recognizing 
a Philadelphian — The Organ — Honeycomb — Loom 
— Lord Antrim's Parlor — The Fan — Keystone — 
Ladies' Wishing Chair — Old Women — The Chim- 
neys—The Well— The Giant's Eyeglass — Dunluce 
Castle — Belfast — The Wanamaker of Belfast — Royal 
Damask Linen Factory — Ormeau Park — Cave Hill — 
Irish Hospitality. 

1UR destination is the Great Northern 
Hotel, which is a short distance from 
the town. We arrive at ten minutes 
past one, having been three hours and ten minutes 
on the way. Our room faces the Atlantic, and 
if our eyes could penetrate the space between, 

177 




178 The British Isles 

they might look upon the dear ones at home, 
for a straight line stretched across this vast dis- 
tance, would, I belieye, touch the neighborhood 
of those we love. 

After luncheon, we wander about the ex- 
tensive grounds of the hotel. Here we see 
ladies and gentlemen playing golf, which is the 
first time we have witnessed the game in this 
country. The views from the hotel are beautiful. 
In the foreground is the broad Atlantic, and on 
every other side mountains upon mountains form 
scenes of great grandeur. The popular walks 
are along the cliffs, where many a lovely picture 
is seen at every turn. The sea is quite turbulent 
at many points along the base of the cliffs, the 
waters foaming and dashing against the rocks 
with such force that they rebound as though shot 
from a cannon's mouth. We are enraptured 
with this varied and enchanting prospect. 

"I'm not romantic but upon my word, 

There are some moments when one can't help 
feeling 



Famous Irish Towns, etc. 181 

As if his heart's chords were so strongly stirr'd 
By things around him, that 'tis vain concealing, 

A little music in his soul still lingers, 

Whene'er its keys are touched by Nature's 
fingers. ' ' 

A trip has been proposed, by jaunting car to 
Belleek, thence by a small steamer down Lough 
Erne to Enniskillen, returning to Bundoran by- 
train. We start this morning at eleven o'clock, 
passing through the old village of Bally shannon, 
a quaint-looking place, where we see many of 
the people going about barefooted. Here we 
see the beautiful and picturesque Falls of Erne. 
After a delightful drive of eight miles, we find 
ourselves at Belleek, famous for its pottery. 
Thither we proceed at once, as we wish to 
observe the process of manufacturing this noted 
and delicate ware. A young man at the door 
invites us to enter. He also kindly acts as our 
guide, and we pass an interesting hour and a half 
in a tour through the various departments. 

We see first the natural clay, then the refined 



1 82 The British Isles 

clay, and the rooms in which the different kinds of 
clay are ground and mixed. We walk through 
the department where cups, saucers, plates, 
pitchers, bowls and vases are moulded and turned 
upon a lathe in rapid succession : also that in 
which flowers and other curious ornaments, shells, 
horns and a variety of designs are shaped. 
How skilful these workmen are in moulding 
the many different patterns. In the Painting 
Room the most delicate tints of all the colors of the 
rainbow are reproduced, as well as the most brilliant 
hues . Now we are before the firing ovens in which 
the ware is hardened, and now in the Glazing 
Room, and so on until we are bewildered with 
the intricate manipulations of the process. 

Across the street is a clean comfortable hotel 
in which we are served with a good dinner before 
proceeding to the steamboat landing for our sail 
down Lough Erne. The day is cloudy, but 
delightful. We have some showers, but one 
expects these in this country. At 3.15, we 
board the steamboat, and start on a twenty-two 



Famous Irish Towns, etc. 185 

mile excursion down the Lough. Exquisite 
scenes greet us on right and left. Here is Cre- 
vinish Castle, ancient and picturesque ; and here 
are the ruins of the old Devenish Abbey, and 
close by the Round Tower, said to be the most 
perfect of its kind in the kingdom, set like jewels 
upon green Devenish Island, and finally round a 
turn in the lough, Enniskillen bursts upon us in 
all its beauty. This town is built upon an island 
in the river connecting the Upper and Lower 
Loughs Erne, and partly on the main-land with 
which it is connected by two bridges. There are 
many objects of interest in this romantic neighbor- 
hood, and the town is well worth a much longer 
visit than our time allows. 

We observe a number of good buildings, two 
forts commanding the pass across the river, and 
the remains of the gate-way of an old castle. 
The situation of the place is ideal, and we leave 
it with reluctance to take the train back to Bun- 
doran. This has been altogether a most charm- 
ing day. 



1 86 The British Isles 

Bundoran is a delightful place, and we are 
sorry to leave it. We have made pleasant friends 
here, among them an interesting Irish gentleman 
and his wife, who urge us to spend some time 
with them at their home. We arrive at Jury's 
Hotel, Londonderry, this afternoon, and after 
engaging our room, take the car for Buncrana, 
a watering-place on Lough Swilly, about an 
hour's ride from here. 

This is a very pretty place, surrounded by 
cultivated fields and trees, with a background of 
hills, rugged, gray and wild. From the remain- 
ing tower of its ruined castle are magnificent 
views of the Lough and the surrounding country. 
Lough Swilly extends thirty miles inland from 
the Atlantic, and is almost entirely surrounded 
by land. Returning to Londonderry, we walk 
around the old wall, from which we have a good 
view of all parts of the city. From the Walker 
monument we also have an extensive prospect. 
A cannon protruding from a port-hole in the 
Round Tower bears the date 1590. London- 



Famous Irish Towns, etc. 189 

deny is famous for its successful resistance to 
the siege of James II. This siege lasted one 
hundred and five days, during which, writes an 
historian, the people were reduced to the direst 
extremities. The town is situated upon the Foyle 
River, which is here crossed by a handsome 
bridge twelve hundred feet in length. It is quite a 
modern-looking place, with many large buildings, 
and much trade, for it manufactures linen in large 
quantities, and possesses besides, ship-building 
yards, iron foundries, distilleries and breweries. 

At breakfast this morning we meet an agreea- 
ble Philadelphia lawyer, the first Philadelphian we 
have been fortunate enough to meet since leaving 
home. We became acquainted in this wise : 
When I heard my neighbor ask some one near 
him to pass him the " preserves," I smiled and 
said to him : " You are a Philadelphian." He 
answered in the affirmative, laughing heartily at 
my means of recognizing a fellow-citizen. None 
but Philadelphians ever use the word " pre- 
serves " in speaking of conserved fruit. 



190 The British Isles 

We rise in time for another stroll through the 
city this morning. Lough Foyle, into which the 
river flows, more than half surrounds the hill 
upon which this town is built ; the summit of the 
hill forms a large square, from which the prin- 
cipal streets diverge at right angles. From the 
opposite side of the river, there is a very attractive 
view of the city. A few of the ancient houses 
with high gables still exist, but they have been 
altered in many respects, and are not good speci- 
mens of the old-fashioned residences. There is 
a spacious harbor, and regular communication 
by water with Glasgow and several English ports. 

From Londonderry we go on to Portrush, 
arriving at one o'clock. We have our baggage 
sent to the Railway Hotel, while we secure seats 
in the electric tram-car for the Giant's Causeway, 
three-quarters of an hour's ride from here. This 
electric tram-way is the first of its kind constructed 
in the United Kingdom. It was opened by 
Lord Spencer, September, 1883. 

We are accompanied on this expedition by 



Famous Irish Towns, etc. 193 

our friend from Philadelphia and his travelling 
companion, and we are a lively and congenial 
party, as we sally forth with our guide to see all 
that is to be seen. First of all luncheon is in 
order. After this the guide leads us to the foot 
of the cliffs, where we engage a boat and two 
sturdy oarsmen to row us into Port Coon Cave 
and around the Causeway. The day is fine, and 
while the ocean is not smooth, it is calm enough 
to admit of our going into the cave. Here copper, 
lead and other minerals glisten through the rocks, 
and the waves dashing wildly against the walls 
do not add to our feeling of safety in this sub- 
terranean region. We spend about an hour 
rowing about, and take a view of the famous 
Causeway from the water before landing. It 
appears to be an enormous hill of basalt, com- 
posed of nearly perpendicular columns, cut in 
two by a vertical section, and the half next the 
sea carried away. It extends a vast distance 
along the coast, and is from three to four hundred 
feet high. The name Causeway has been given 



194 The British Isles 

it in consequence of the immense pavement, as it 
were, which is formed by the upper edges of the 
fragments of basalt left here at the bottom 
of the huge precipice when the seaward half of 
the basaltic hill was carried away. This pave- 
ment has been traced into the ocean as far as the 
eye can see in a clear and calm day. There are 
three of the pavements, the Great Causeway, the 
Middle Causeway and the West Causeway. 

We tread upon this most marvellous forma- 
tion, and as we proceed our wonder increases 
with every step. Here are columns fitted so 
closely together, that although each is perfectly 
distinct, it is impossible to insert the smallest 
thing between them. There are myriads of these 
columns composed of short lengths articulated 
into each other, as a ball into a socket. They 
are as smooth as if polished and carefully placed 
by human hands, and are five, six, seven, eight 
and even nine-sided. 

Before us is a mass of basaltic pillars, with 
the longest in the middle, gradually shortening 



Famous Irish Towns, etc. 197 

towards the sides as the pipes of the organ, from 
which it has received its name. Here is the 
Honeycomb, and new wonders follow each other 
in rapid succession. Now the fluted columns of 
the Loom rise up forty or fifty feet, and as straight 
as arrows. Now we are in Lord Antrim's Parlor, 
and here is before us the Fan formed by Nature's 
hand. This is the Keystone, and farther on, 
most important of all, is the Ladies' Wishing 
Chair, with its legend that whoever wishes within 
its charmed enclosure will have her (or his) 
desire fulfilled within the year. Of course we all 
take advantage of this great opportunity. I 
wonder how many of our wishes will come true. 

Surrounding the Chair are many old women, 
who shower blessings upon us, and in return 
expect us to buy the various articles they have 
for sale. In the midst of these interesting ob- 
jects, we look up and see a mass of rock shoot- 
ing far beyond the main body, and much resem- 
bling its namesake, the Chimneys. 

Another short walk brings us to the Wishing 



198 The British Isles 

Well, with its tradition similar to that of the 
Ladies' Chair. We all drink of the water, and 
now are doubly spellbound, with a rich prospect 
before us. Here is the Giant's Eyeglass, an 
oblong hole extending quite through the solid 
rock. A peculiarity of this giant is that he wears 
no glass in his pince-nez. 

Legends innumerable attach themselves to 
this remarkable spot. It would be impossible to 
give one half of them. I will merely relate the 
most widely-spread tradition regarding the origin 
of the Causeway. 

Fin MacCool, giant and champion of Ireland, 
became greatly incensed by the insolent boast- 
ing of a certain Caledonian giant, who vowed he 
would vanquish any one who dared to meet him, 
and who boldly declared that if it were not for 
the wetting, he would swim over and give Fin 
himself a good drubbing. This was too much 
for the Irish champion, who applied to the king, 
and obtained permission to construct a causeway 
over the watery space. The Scot walked over 



Famous Irish Towns, etc. 201 

and fought the Irishman, and Fin was the victor. 
With Hibernian generosity he invited his former 
rival to marry and settle down in the auld coun- 
try, which the Caledonian was not loath to do, 
as at that time living in Scotland was none of 
the best, and every one knows that Ireland was 
the richest country in the world. When the 
days of the giants were over, the causeway fell 
into disuse, and sank under the sea, leaving only 
a portion visible here, a little at Rathlin Island, 
ten miles off the coast, and the portals of the 
grand gate on the Island of Staffa. 

The cave, it is said, was inhabited by a her- 
mit giant, who, having made a vow never to eat 
food touched by human hands, was sustained by 
the seals, who brought him the means of nourish- 
ment in their mouths. 

On the homeward ride we pass many inter- 
esting basaltic formations, and many relics of the 
Irish Champion. Here we have Fin's Punch- 
Bowl, his face in profile ; also his grandmother, 
the Giant's Head, the Elephant, the White Rocks, 



202 The British Isles 

etc. There are innumerable caves of various 
shapes, and we feel that we could spend long 
days exploring the wonders of this most marvel- 
lous region. Here upon an isolated rock rising 
steeply over a hundred feet above the sea is 
Dunluce Castle. It is a roofless ruin, covered 
with vines, accessible only by a narrow bridge 
raised high above the water. Its history is lost 
in the mists of the ages, but it is the subject of 
innumerable legends and romances. Beneath 
the rock upon which it stands is a cavern, acces- 
sible from the sea only at low water. 

On the outskirts of Portrush we perceive 
many bathers enjoying their dip in the sea. 
There seems to be much entertainment here, and 
the waving handkerchiefs and merry voices give 
evidence of the exhilarating effects of the salt 
water. And now we are nearing our hotel. 
Before he leaves us our guide tells us that 
upwards of a thousand tourists have been known 
to visit the Causeway in a single day. So pop- 
ular is Ireland's greatest wonder. To-morrow, 



Famous Irish Towns, etc. 203 

if all is favorable, we move onward to Belfast, 
where we hope to mingle a little rest with our 
sight-seeing. The wise man remembers the 
claims of the body and brain while travelling, 
for at such times the tax on both is great. 

Before leaving this attractive spot, we take a 
jaunting car and ride around the town, and far 
out into the suburbs. Portrush is a fashionable 
watering-place, hence the better class of English 
and Irish people is well represented here. There 
is a fine beach here for bathing, and numerous 
pleasant villas and other buildings of no mean 
pretensions. There are churches of all denomi- 
nations to be seen. The scenery along the 
cliffs is fine, and the views from the headlands is 
most beautiful. 

We are on the train, the bell rings, and off 
we start for Belfast. The country around us is 
very pretty. Farms are under cultivation, and 
there are signs of order and prosperity every- 
where. We arrive at Belfast after a delightful 
journey, and drive to the Grand Central Hotel, 



204 The British Isles 

a new house, and the finest in the place. It is 
situated on Royal Avenue. 

Belfast, the headquarters of the linen trade, 
is a cheerful place, and its dwellings have a 
comfortable, prosperous appearance. In the 
suburbs are many fine villas. The city is 
full of the vigor and bustle of an American 
town. There are many good- looking churches, 
and we are favorably impressed with the archi- 
tecture of the public buildings and the remarka- 
ble cleanliness of the streets. We visit the 
store of Messrs. Robinson & Cleaver, the Wana- 
maker's of Belfast. This is a great shop. Here 
is a fine display of goods, including linens of 
every kind and size, at astonishingly low prices 
when compared with those in our own city. It 
is unnecessary to say that we indulged to some 
extent in these rare fabrics. 

Being interested in the hand looms and the 
old linen factories, we proceed by tram to the 
mill of Messrs. Murphy & Orr, on the outskirts 
of the city, with a letter of introduction from 



Famous Irish Towns, etc. 205 

these gentlemen to their foreman. Here we are 
pleasantly received, and conducted through the 
old mill, which has been in existence eighty 
years. Everything is explained to our utmost 
satisfaction. We pass many other large linen 
factories on the way thither. 

Saturday being a half holiday, mills and shops 
are closed at twelve or one o'clock, but we are 
in time for a number of the stores, which we find 
very attractive. This afternoon we take a car 
for a tour of the city and out into the suburbs. 
We see many fine residences, churches, colleges 
and other institutions. 

The grounds of Ormeau Park are very beau- 
tiful. This was originally the demesne of the 
Marquis of Donegal. It was purchased by the 
city in 1870. Parties of ladies and gentlemen 
are playing tennis, cricket and other games. 
Some are en^a^ed in bowls. Here is a fine 
bowling-green. We pass the Institute for the 
Deaf and Dumb, and the Royal Botanic Gar- 
dens, which are romantically situated on the 



206 The British Isles 

Laggan River, and contain the most beautiful 
flower-beds I have ever seen. Queen's College 
is a handsome building, six hundred feet long, 
with a tower a hundred feet in height. The 
president of this college is the Rev. Henry 
Cooke, for thirty years the acknowledged leader 
of the Conservative Party in the north of 
Ireland. 

Cave Hill is three miles north of the city, 
and twelve hundred feet above the level of the 
sea. It derives its name from three caves 
beneath its surface. The view from the summit 
is very fine. From this eminence may be seen 
the town of Belfast and its spacious bay ; also 
Belfast Castle, a baronial mansion of the Mar- 
quis of Donegal. Many elegant residences are 
in this neighborhood. After visiting the vast 
ship-yards of Messrs. Harlan & Wolff, we return 
to our hotel over Queen's Bridge, a most pictur- 
esque structure, spanning the river not far from 
the terminus of the County Down Railway, with 
five arches of fifty feet span each. This evening 



Famous Irish Towns, etc. 207 

we attend the Belfast Exhibition, a small show 
and not very interesting. 

Sunday we rest and visit Belfast friends, for 
to-morrow we leave for Stranraer, Scotland, via 
Larne. The days now are full of sunshine, with 
scarcely any rain. 

I cannot bid farewell to Ireland without a 
tribute to the warm hospitality of a noble Irish 
gentleman, whose wife and daughter we met at 
Bundoran. These ladies insisted upon our visit- 
ing the husband and father at their home in Bel- 
fast, and accordingly wrote, requesting him to 
call upon us on our arrival in the city. On 
Saturday morning Mr. W. appeared at our hotel, 
and escorted us to many interesting places in the 
neighborhood, and at parting, invited us to dine 
with him on the following day. 

We had a most delightful visit. The home 
of our friend is on a fine estate in the suburbs, 
where we found a spacious mansion, extensive 
lawns and beautiful grounds. At the entrance 
to the long avenue our host met us with a cordial 



208 The British Isles 

welcome. We dined at three, and afterwards 
feasted upon luscious grapes from his hot- 
houses. Then the carriage was brought around, 
and Mr. W. and his sister took us through a 
picturesque portion of the country, Mr. W. him- 
self driving the fine spirited horses. We were 
out about two hours ; on our return tea was 
served, and we were not allowed to leave until 
the old clock in the hall struck seven. Such 
genuine hospitality to utter strangers has made 
a deep and lasting impression upon us. Here 
we have seen what is far beyond the beauties of 
scenery — the warm open heart of the true Irish 
gentleman. 



The Land of Burns — 

Glasgow — The Trossachs. 



The Land of 'Bums — Glasgow — The 
Trossachs* 

Lame — Stranraer — The Land of Burns — Ayr — Burns' 
Cottage— The Monument — Relics of the Poet — Pic- 
tures — Glasgow — Origin of the Name — Royal 
Princess Theatre — About the City — The Cathedral 
—West End Park— James Watt— The Clyde— Loch 
Lomond — The Trossachs — Inversnaid — Loch 
Katrine — Rob Roy's Hut — Stronachlachar — Ellen's 
Isle — Our Coach — Loch Ard. 

E leave Belfast on the 9.05 train, and 

reach Larne at 10 o'clock. There is a 

delightful view of Lough Larne from 

the car window. Many pleasure-boats may be 

seen on this placid body of water. The town is 

beautifully situated, and like most of the old 

places here, has its ruined castle, which was at 

one time an important defensive fortress. But 

we have little time for observation, as we make 

close connection with the steamship line here, 

and our luggage is quickly transferred to the 

211 




212 The British Isles 

Princess May y from whose deck we bid farewell 
to good old Ireland. 

The water is somewhat rough, and in a 
short time the spray drives us to the shelter of 
the cabin. Many passengers are sea-sick. While 
the sea air is delightful, we are enveloped in a 
fog, which is by no means pleasant. We reach 
our destination in a few hours, no doubt to the 
joy of the others as well as ourselves. On the 
steamer we make the acquaintance of a young 
lawyer from Edinburgh, who invites us cordially 
to visit his family. It is very pleasant to expe- 
rience such delightful hospitality. We are wel- 
comed everywhere, and often feel that we are 
among dear old friends. 

The distance from Larne to Stranraer is thirty- 
nine miles. This town owes its name to a visit 
from St. Patrick, who is said to have stepped 
across from Ireland one day. It appears to be a 
prosperous place. A large park of several thou- 
sand acres surrounds the residence of the Earl of 
Stair, and within this park are the ruins of Castle 



The Land of Burns, Glasgow, etc. 213 

Kennedy on slightly elevated ground between 
two large lochs. Its pleasure-grounds are pre- 
served in the ancient style, with avenues, groups 
of plantations, shrubberies, open lawns and slop- 
ing terraces. It is said to be a favorite resort of 
tourists. Many rare trees and plants are to be 
found here, and the pinetum, extending over 
twenty acres, is one of the finest collections of 
coniferous trees in Europe. 

We go by train from Stranraer to Glasgow, 
stopping at Ayr, the birthplace of Burns, which 
place we reach at half-past two in the afternoon. 
We find comfortable quarters at the Station 
Hotel, and after lunching are ready to jump into 
the landau ordered for a tour of the town. Ayr 
is on the sea-coast, at the mouth of the Ayr 
River, and is well laid out. In the Square near 
the station is a statue of Burns. A few frag- 
ments of the fort of Ayr, built by Cromwell in 
1652, still remain, also an old tower which has 
been remodelled and fitted up as a private resi- 
dence. The views from the Bay of Ayr are very 



214 The British Isles 

fine. The river is crossed by two bridges, the Auld 
and New — " The Twa Brigs " of Burns' poem. 

Our driver is a good guide, and points out 
many places of local and historic interest. The 
little cottage in which Burns was born on the 
25th o r January, 1759, is about two miles from 
Ayr. The original building was a " clay biggin," 
consisting of two apartments, the kitchen and the 
"spence" or sitting-room. The house was sur- 
rounded by seven acres of ground. It is now 
the property of the Ayr Burns' Monument Trus- 
tees, and is set apart as a museum in which relics 
of the poet are preserved. Burns' monument 
stands in the centre of an acre of ground prettily 
laid out. In an apartment here are exhibited 
various editions of the poet's works, a copy of 
the original portrait of Burns, and the Bible 
given by Burns to Highland Mary when they 
plighted their troth. From the upper part of the 
monument is a good view of the surrounding 
country. The poet's grave is at Dumfries, where 
he died July 21, 1796. There in the old church- 



The Land of Burns, Glasgow, etc. 217 

yard of St. Michael's Church is a mausoleum, 
beneath whose dome stands a marble group of 
two figures, representing the genius of Coila 
finding her favorite son at the plough, and cast- 
ing over him her mantle of inspiration. 

Ayr is full of the atmosphere of Burns, and 
our driver is a true lover of the Ayrshire plough- 
man. After we have looked upon the original 
manuscript of " Tarn O'Shanter," and later when 
we are in the graveyard of Alloway Kirk, where 
Tarn saw the witches, he repeats portions of the 
poem, acting the most exciting parts with great 
enthusiasm, as he points out the scene of the 
events. This unexpected addition to the pro- 
gramme is very entertaining. 

" Alloway *s auld haunted Kirk" is roofless, 
but the walls are well preserved, and the bell still 
hangs in the east end as of old. Here are the 
Tarn o' Shanter Inn, and the Auld Brig o' Doon, 
and the scenes which inspired the exquisite lines 
beginning : 

"Ye banks and braes o' bonny Doon." 



2i8 The British Isles 

The Doon is indeed a bonny river, whose 
banks are said to be always "fresh and gay." 
The scenes of some of the most popular poems 
of Burns are also to be found on the banks of the 
Ayr, near Mauchline. 

From Ayr we continue our journey to Glas- 
gow, and settle ourselves at St. Enoch's Station 
Hotel. Glasgow is a great city, representing the 
commerce and manufactures of Scotland, and 
commanding an enormous foreign and domestic 
trade. " The origin and meaning of the name 
Glasgow has been the subject of much debate. 
It is a term of Celtic origin and high antiquity, 
among the numerous and conflicting definitions 
of which are ' the gray smith,' ' the gray hound,' 
' the dark glen,' ' the green wood,' and ' the 
beloved green spot.' The town has existed from 
a very remote period, and has played no unim- 
portant part in Scottish history. The city is 
built over a coal field, whose rich seams of iron- 
stone have contributed much to its rapid indus- 
trial growth. The river Clyde has also been a 



The Land of Burns, Glasgow, etc. 219 

source of much of its prosperity and wealth." 
In 1763 the illustrious James Watt began that 
memorable series of experiments which resulted 
in the successful application of steam as a great 
motive power; and in 18 12 Mr. Henry Bell 
launched on the Clyde his first steam vessel ; the 
first steamer not only on the Clyde but in Europe. 
Glasgow is a handsome town, with broad, well- 
made streets, and the two sides of the river are 
here joined by many bridges. Buchanan Street 
is the principal and most central street, and there 
are two beautiful parks situated on high grounds 
and commanding fine views of the city. 

On Tuesday night we attend the Royal 
Princess Theatre, and are entertained by a 
spirited rendering of a play entitled " Rob Roy." 
This morning it rains, and as we have little hope 
of going out, letter- writing is the order of the 
day ; but after luncheon the sun comes out, and 
as there is a prospect of a fine afternoon we 
engage a hansom and drive along the main 
thoroughfares, first to the Royal Exchange and 



220 The British Isles 

municipal buildings, which are handsome edi- 
fices, then to the Cathedral. The High Kirk, 
or old Cathedral of Glasgow, is one of the finest 
examples of early English undecorated Gothic 
architecture, and contains specimens of every 
style practised from the twelfth to the seventeenth 
century. Behind it the Necropolis rises steeply 
to the top of the Cathedral, forming a beautiful 
background to the noble building, for it is cov- 
ered with picturesque shrubberies and rich monu- 
ments. We find the interior of the Cathedral 
well worth our trouble, when, yielding to the 
persuasion of our driver, we enter its walls. It 
contains one hundred and forty-seven pillars and 
one hundred and fifty-nine windows, many of 
them of exquisite workmanship. The crypt 
under the choir is superb, unsurpassed, it is said, 
by any similar structure in Britain. It is now 
used only as a place of burial. In the south- 
west corner is St. Mungo's Well, the spot, 
according to tradition, where the founder first 
established his cell and church. Sir Walter 



The Land of Burns, Glasgow, etc. 221 

Scott has frequently referred to this cathedral in 
" Rob Roy," and " Rob Roy's Column" is still 
pointed out to visitors as the spot near which the 
outlaw stood when warned of his danger. 

West End Park is an exclusive region, envel- 
oped in a fashionable, conventional atmosphere. 
Here is a handsome memorial fountain, whose 
surmounting bronze figure is that of the " Lady 
of the Lake." Here, too, is a very popular 
institution, the City Industrial Museum, which 
has acquired a fine collection, embracing natural 
history, ethnology, and especially the industrial 
arts. The view from Hill Head is delightful. 
From this point may be seen the city, and the 
Clyde with its forest of masts, and immense 
steamers which travel up and down the river 
and connect Glasgow with every part of the 
world. Ben Lomond also towers up in the far 
distance, and from the very top of the hill one 
may behold Glasgow University. 

The following is an extract from the North 
British Daily Mail of September 12, 1896 : 



222 The British Isles 

THE RAILWAY RACE IN AMERICA — ALL 
RECORDS BROKEN. 

Buffalo, Sept. nth. 
A special train on the New York Central Rail- 
road left New York at 5 hours 40 minutes 30 seconds 
this morning. It arrived at East Buffalo at 1 2 hours 
34 minutes 57 seconds, having thus covered 436 y 2 
miles in 6 hours 54 minutes 27 seconds. The actual 
time of running, exclusive of stoppages to change 
engines, was 6 hours 47 minutes, and the average 
speed maintained was 64^ miles an hour. The 
previous English record was 63^ miles an hour. 
The weight of the New York Central train was 175 
tons, while that of the English train was 106 tons. 
During almost the entire journey the American train 
was in the teeth of a heavy wind. — Renter. 

To-day we have set for a tour around Loch 
Lomond, Inversnaid, Stronachlachar, Loch Kat- 
rine, the Trossachs, Loch Achray, Aberfoyle, 
and the circular coaching tour around Loch Ard. 
It is to be one of the " Banner " days of our 
Scottish trip, and will include travel by railway, 
steamer, coach and trap. 

We breakfast at seven o'clock, and take the 



The Land of Burns, Glasgow, etc. 223 

train at Queen Street Station for Balloch. Here 
the pretty steam yacht Queen is waiting for us, 
and after an hour's sail on Loch Lomond, will 
leave us at Inversnaid. This part of the trip is 
most delightful, in spite of a heavy shower of a 
half hour. Loch Lomond is one of the love- 
liest of the Scottish lakes. At the north its 
gradually narrowing banks vanish among the 
dusky mountain gorges, while its southern shores 
spread and open among the bays and headlands 
of a beautiful, fertile country. Innumerable 
picturesque islands of every shape and size render 
the picture one that can hardly be surpassed. 
Enchanting scenery surrounds it. The moun- 
tains towering high on every side, add their sub- 
limity to the view. No pen can describe, no 
photograph can give even a faint idea of the 
beauty that lies about us. It is not wonderful 
that Scott was inspired with all this wealth of 
material around him. 

We land regretfully at last, and at Inversnaid 
find a large coach and four powerful horses wait- 



224 The British Isles 

ing to carry us to Stronachlachar. This is a 
most enjoyable ride ; the air is so pure and invig- 
orating that the forty-five minutes of its duration 
pass all too quickly. On the way we see the hut 
of Rob Roy, and the cottage in which his wife 
was born. This is the country of Rob Roy. Sir 
Walter Scott has peopled the Trossachs for us, 
and given to these wild glens and moors a fan- 
tastic charm that rivals in interest the bloom of 
the heather which we see around us for miles on 
every side. Our driver tells us that grouse 
abound in this region. 

All about us rise the majestic mountains, and 
our road carries us so high at times that we 
almost imagine ourselves bounding over their 
summits. Now w r e have reached Stronachlachar, 
at the head of Loch Katrine, where there is a 
comfortable hotel in which the most persistent 
appetite of a hungry tourist can be satisfied. An 
hour later we descend the hill and take the small 
steamer which can just be seen rounding the 
bend in the loch. We have many fellow- 



The Land of Burns, Glasgow, etc. 227 

passengers on this trip ; from eighty to a hun- 
dred : some Scotch, the greater number English, 
and a few American tourists. Loch Katrine is a 
lovely sheet of water lying at the feet of the 
rugged heights. It has attained a world-wide 
fame as the scene of Scott's poem, " The Lady 
of the Lake." But Wordsworth and other poets 
have also immortalized this enchanting region, 
and history lurks in every height and depth and 
. secret by-way. All is beautiful beyond descrip- 
tion. Numberless mountains, with many peaks 
and ridges guard the lake. Ben Lomond is the 
king of these : rising nearly thirty-two hundred 
feet above us, and clothed in its rich soft hues of 
green and brown, it holds watch and ward over 
the sleeping beauty, a type of everlasting love 
and protection. On our right is Ben Venue, an 
enormous mass, gracefully robed in heather and 
ferns, which have an extremely beautiful effect in 
the sunlight. This mountain is nearly twenty- 
four hundred feet high ; Ben Ledi, nearly twenty- 
nine hundred feet. The name of this mountain 



228 The British Isles 

is Gaelic, said to signify " the Hill of God." On 
our left is Ben A'an, like Ben Venue, excepting 
in the great conical rocky peak which rises from 
its summit, and at our feet myriads of sparkling 
diamonds reflect the sun's rays on the rippling 
waters of the lake. 

" Every rock has its echo, and every grove is 
vocal with the melodious harmony of birds." 

Roderick Dhu's Watch-tower is a rocky hill 
rising several hundred feet from the margin of 
the water on the southern side. 

Many islands come into view, the most noted 
of which is Ellen's Isle, a deserted mass of tan- 
gled wilderness — 

" So close with copsewood bound 
Nor track nor pathway might declare 
That human foot frequented there;" 

but never to be forgotten, for it is " linked with 
a star," and so destined to immortality. 

Our little steamer lands us on the Trossachs 
Pier, from which point we are to coach through 
the Trossachs and along charming Loch Achray 



The Land of Burns, Glasgow, etc. 229 

to Aberfoyle. As we drive along the beautiful 
macadamized roads, with the dense masses of pine, 
birch and other foliage on either side, we seem 
to be hedged in ; when the road will turn, or 
where is the next point of exit, is quite puzzling. 
So lovely and primitive is the scene that one might 
imagine himself wandering in a veritable fairy-land. 
We come out through the Pass of the Trossachs 
upon a magnificent view. A picturesque valley 
extends for miles and miles before us, bordered 
by lofty mountains. Just now a mist forming 
on the summits absorbs the sun's rays, producing 
a most brilliant rainbow. What more could one 
desire to render the scene perfect ? A master- 
piece of the Great Artist. Every one is enrap- 
tured, and when a fresh view bursts upon us, our 
driver stops his horses, and inspired by our 
appreciation, exclaims enthusiastically : " This is 
our grandest view of all." 

Not so, think I, for all are so sublime in 
individual beauty, it seems impossible to praise 
one beyond another. 



230 The British Isles 

Now, we come to a very steep hill, and the 
driver putting on the brakes, with a twirl of his 
long whip, keeps his horses at an even pace. 
The road seems dangerous. At times one feels 
that the coach may overturn, but no, the driver 
knows his business and his horses, and we turn 
the corners with ease and grace. Our coach 
is a beauty ; of solid oak oiled ; four horses, 
silver mounted harness; and the "Whip," a 
typical Scotchman, with bright red jacket, and 
tall white hat; every inch a horseman. We 
have about twenty-eight passengers. Sud- 
denly the lines are tightened, our "Whip " 
shouts "whoa," and we are landed safe and 
sound at the Bailie Nicol Jarvie Hotel at Aber- 
foyle at 3.15 p. m. Three other coaches arrive 
about the same time from the Trossachs. While 
these latter tourists have " done " the Lakes and 
Trossachs, and will return to Glasgow and Edin- 
burgh by the 3.50 p. m. train from Aberfoyle, 
we are yet to make a tour of thirteen and a half 
miles by trap, ere we return to Glasgow. 



The Land of Burns, Glasgow, etc. 231 

We order lunch, and engage the trap to be 
ready at four o'clock. Our driver is on hand at 
the stroke of the hour, and away we go for a 
ride around Loch Ard. This is a beautiful sheet 
of water. The remains of Duchray Castle, a 
rather uninteresting building, appear on an island 
on the south side of the loch, and we have sev- 
eral fine views of Ben Lomond. There is also 
here a water-fall celebrated as the retreat of Flora 
Maclvor, the heroine of Waverley. Now we are 
ascending a mountain road, and quite on the 
summit we see a huge iron pipe projecting from 
one side. Our driver tells us that this pipe con- 
ducts the water of Loch Katrine to the city of 
Glasgow, and that this is the sole water sup- 
ply of the city. As Loch Katrine lies at a 
greater elevation than Glasgow, the water has a 
natural flow, thus saving the city considerable 
expense. 

After a delightful drive of more than two 
hours, we alight before the hotel at Aberfoyle, 
where we are warmed and refreshed by a cup of 



232 The British Isles 

tea and some hot toast. At nine o'clock we 
reach the St. Enoch's Station Hotel, Glasgow, 
thus completing one of the most interesting of 
our excursions. Scotland may well be proud of 
her " bonny Highland Country." 



The Highlands — 
Staff a and Iona 



Fingal's Cave — 

Inverness 



The Highlands — Staff a andlona — FingaVs 
Cave — Inverness. 

Greenock — En route for Oban — Dunoon — Rothesay— 
Kyles of Bute — Maids of Bute — Tarbert — Crinan 
Canal — Oban — Castle Dunstaffnage — Staffa — Fin- 
gal's Cave — The Causeway — Bending Pillars — 
Fingal's Wishing Chair — Iona— The Street of the 
Dead — The Cemetery — Ballachulish — Glencoe — 
Ossian's Cave — Scene of the Massacre — Benavie — 
Ben Nevis — Fort Augustus — Inverness — The North- 
ern Meeting — Scotch Pipers — A noted Character — 
Away to Edinburgh — Scenes on the Journey — Fare- 
well to the Highlands. 

E leave St. Enoch's Station this morning 
for Glasgow, arriving at nine o'clock, 
and immediately taking the steamer 
Columba for Oban. Dunoon, our first stopping 
place, is a popular resort on the Clyde, with the 
ruins of the old, and the modern structure of the 
new castle overlooking the pier. Our passage is 
rather squallish, and some of the passengers are 
sick. On the boat we make the acquaintance of 

235 




236 The British Isles 

a young English couple who are taking our 
identical trip. We at once establish friendly rela- 
tions with each other. Our next station is 
Rothesay, well known in ancient history, with its 
ruined castle, once a residence of the kings of 
Scotland. Here is a fine esplanade facing the 
bay and commanding beautiful views. Now we 
pass through the famous Kyles of Bute, a pictur- 
esque channel between the mouth of the Clyde 
and Loch Fyne, separating the Island of Bute 
from the main-land. From the steamer's deck 
we can see the " Maids of Bute," a couple of 
queer-looking stones standing close together, and 
painted to resemble two old maids sitting upon 
the mountain side. 

The Scottish hills are very attractive, and 
this scenery all along the route is quite different 
from the English and Irish country. We stop 
at Tarbert for passengers. This is a fishing 
village, pleasantly situated, but of no especial 
importance ; still it has its old castle overlooking 
the harbor, and during the herring-fishing season 



The Highlands — Fingal's Cave 237 

an immense number of boats may be seen here, 
and they have a lively time. At eleven o'clock 
we reach Ardrishaig, and here bid good-bye to 
the Cohunba, as she is too large a steamer to 
cruise up the Crinan Canal. Passengers and 
freight are transferred to the Linnet, a smaller 
boat. This journey is delightful. The canal is 
very narrow. It was made about the year 1 800 
to avoid the circuitous passage of seventy miles 
around the Mull of Kintyre, and is nine miles 
long, having fifteen locks, thirteen of which are 
only ninety-six feet long, twenty-four feet wide 
and twelve feet deep. 

The captain tells us if we wish to walk a mile 
or two, to go ahead of the steamer and enjoy the 
country while she is passing through some of the 
locks. This many of us do, and we have a pic- 
turesque walk. We are impressed with the clean 
appearance of the houses here, as well as the 
beauty around us. 

The islands of Islay, Jura and Scarba are now 
in view, and the whirlpool of Corrivreckin, 



238 The British Isles 

caused by the Atlantic tide rushing through the 
space between Jura and Scarba at eighteen miles 
an hour. Scarba Mountain is before us, 1470 
feet high, and beyond it is the noble Ben More, 
the highest mountain in Mull, 3179 feet. 

The Linnet carries us to Crinan, where we 
change once more to a large steamer, the Che- 
valier, and proceed directly to Oban. The 
scenery all along the route is superb ; huge 
masses of rock loom up on either side, and the 
waves dash ceaselessly against them. It is im- 
possible to forget the grandeur of these sights. 
The approach of evening adds new beauties to 
the view. 

This delightful experience is cut short by our 
arrival at Oban, which is our destination for the 
next few days. It is five o'clock when we reach 
the Station Hotel. 

It is a well-known fact that all the station 
hotels throughout Scotland are under railroad 
management, and are first-class in every particu- 
lar. Our experience confirms this statement. 



The Highlands — Fingal's Cave 239 

Sunday being clear and pleasant, in company 
with our English friends, we take a walk of seven 
miles to Castle Dunstaffnage. This famous ruin, 
guarding the entrance to Loch Etive, was the 
seat of Scottish monarchy until the overthrow of 
the Picts, when Scone succeeded to that honor. 
A cranny in the castle wall is shown as the orig- 
inal repository of the celebrated Stone of Destiny, 
or Lia Fail, which forms the support of the cor- 
onation chair in Westminster Abbey. It is also 
called the Dunstaffnage Stone, and the Stone of 
Scone. I have said before that the ancient Scott- 
ish kings were crowned on this stone. It was 
transferred from Dunstaffnage Castle to the 
Abbey of Scone, and removed to Westminster 
by Edward I. in 1296. 

The country hereabout is wild and pictur- 
esque, affording abundant opportunity for excur- 
sions by car and steamer. The most famous as 
well as most interesting expedition is that to 
Stafifa and Iona. It is one hundred and twenty 
miles by sea, and occupies a day. 



240 The British Isles 

The day fixed for our journey thither proves 
rainy, but that does not deter us, and at eight 
o'clock in the morning we find ourselves on the 
large steamer H. M. S. Grenadier, on our way 
to the noted islands. A rough voyage brings 
us within sight of Staffa, where we anchor, and 
are met by a large boat, into which we all, thirty 
in number, step, and are rowed to the island of 
the world-renowned Fingal's Cave. We follow 
our guide over stones shaped much like those at 
the Giant's Causeway. This is a wonderful spot, 
almost beyond adequate description. The whole 
end of the island is supported by natural columns 
averaging fifty feet in height, and following in 
their course the indentations of the land. The 
bases of these colums form the cave, which is 
lighted from without to its farthest extremity. 
The upright pillars, which constitute the entrance, 
are of the most perfect regularity. The waters 
of the sea are the floor of the cave, and they 
never ebb entirely out, but beat with violence 
against the walls, which glisten as if covered 



The Highlands — Fingal's Cave 243 

with myriads of diamonds. I will never for- 
get this sight, nor the roar of the waves 
dashing their foam in all directions. I quote the 
following paragraph from Troil's " Letters on 
Iceland " : 

" How splendid do the porticos of the ancients 
appear in our eyes, and with what admiration 
are we seized on seeing even the colonnades of 
our modern edifices. But when we behold the 
Cave of Fingal, formed by nature, it is no longer 
possible to make a comparison, and we are 
forced to acknowledge that this piece of archi- 
tecture, executed by nature, far surpasses that of 
the Louvre, that of St. Peter at Rome, and 
even what remains of Palmyra and Pestum, 
and all that the genius, the taste and the 
luxury of the Greeks were ever capable of 
inventing." 

It is not strange that legend should name 
this cave as the abode of a hero. I cannot 
refrain from repeating also these lines of Sir 
Walter Scott : 



244 The British Isles 

" The shores of Mull on the eastward lay, 
And Ulva dark, and Colonsay, 
And all the group of islets gay 

That guard famed Staffa round. 
Then all unknown, its columns rose, 
Where dark and undisturbed repose 

The cormorant had found, 
And the shy seal had quiet home, 
And weltered in that glorious dome, 
Where, as to shame the temples deck'd 
By skill of earthly architect, 
Nature herself, it seemed would raise 
A Minster to her Maker's praise. 
Not for a meaner use ascend 
Her columns, or her arches bend ; 
Nor of a theme less solemn tells 
That mighty surge that ebbs and swells, 
And still between each awful pause, 
From the high vault an answer draws, 
In varied tones, prolonged and high, 
That mocks the organ's melody. 
Nor doth its entrance front in vain 
To old Iona's holy fane, 
That Nature's voice might seem to say, 
' Well hast thou done, frail child of clay ! 
Thy humble powers that stately shrine 
Tasked high and hard — but witness mine, 




The renowned Fingal's Cave " 



The Highlands — Fingal's Cave 247 

From the cave we are led around the Cause- 
way to view the Corner-Stone, the only square 
stone on the island. Here also we have a fine 
sight of the Bending Pillars, columns apparently 
bowed by the mass of rock above them. On 
the Causeway is Fingal's Wishing Chair with the 
usual legend attached, save that here the condi- 
tion is that three distinct wishes shall be made. 

From the summit of the island may be seen 
MacKinnon's, or, as it is called, Cormorant's 
Cave, also Iona with its Cathedral Tower, and 
farther off Big Colonsay, Islay and Jura, and to 
the left the Tresnish Islands, Coll, Tiree and the 
rest. Looking down over the Causeway, the view 
is wonderful. Pillars and stones of every shape 
and position, and of every size, are fitted into 
each other as if by human hands. Having seen 
this place and the Giant's Causeway, one can 
readily credit the supposition that both are parts 
of the same once continuous immense bed of 
columnar basalt. 

As we leave Staffa, our boat keeps close to 



248 The British Isles 

the caves, giving us an opportunity of observing 
them from the sea. 

At three o'clock we reach Iona, and, as at 
Staffa, the steamer is anchored and passengers 
taken ashore in a row boat. As a matter of his- 
tory, I copy here a brief extract relating to this 
island : " Icolmkill, or I-Columb-kill, was called 
by monkish writers Iona, I-signifies Island, which 
was its original name, until St. Columba having 
founded a monastery there, it came to be called 
I-Columb-kill, the island of Columba's cell. Its 
ancient religious edifices were established about 
the year 565 by St. Columba, who left his home 
in Ireland to preach Christ to the Picts. The 
Church is said to have been built by Queen 
Margaret, towards the end of the eleventh cen- 
tury. It is in the form of a cross. In the mid- 
dle of this cathedral rises a tower supported by 
four arches, and ornamented by bass-reliefs. 
Here are the tombs of forty-eight Scottish kings, 
four kings of Ireland ; eight Norwegian mon- 
archs, and one king of France. The cell of 



The Highlands — Fingal's Cave 249 

Columba became the mother of one hundred 
monasteries, and here the princes and nobles of 
Scotland were sent to be educated. It was the 
favorite sepulchre of the Scotch and Irish 
kings." 

The word Iona is said to be derived from a 
Hebrew word signifying a dove ; and the Gaelic 
Li-hona means the Blessed or Sacred Isle. Tour- 
ists are led first to the ruins of the Nunnery by 
the official guide. This was erected about the 
close of the twelfth century, and is still compara- 
tively well preserved. The chancel, nave and 
part of the vaulted roof remain. Within the 
Church is the tomb of the Prioress Anna, and 
other defaced monuments. Thence we walk 
along the " Straid-na-Marbh," or street of the 
dead, to the burial ground of Iona, called Reilig 
Oran. Maclean's Cross, which we pass on the 
way, is one of those Runic crosses for which the 
island is famous ; it is noticeable for its beautiful 
scroll carving, and is said to be the oldest cross 
in Scotland. 



250 The British Isles 

In the cemetery we see groups of ancient 
tombstones, most of them carved in relief, and 
possessing great antiquarian and historical inter- 
est. The finest tomb in the burial ground is the 
memorial slab of the Four Friars. The most 
ancient structure on the island is St. Oran's 
Chapel, supposed to have been erected about the 
close of the eleventh century by Margaret, 
Queen of Malcolm Canmore, on the site of St. 
Columba's original cell. Opposite the west door 
of the Cathedral is the noble monument, known 
as the Iona Cross, erected to the memory of St. 
Martin of Tours, who lived in the sixth century. 
In the Cathedral are innumerable effigies cut in 
the walls and the stones of the pavement, and 
inscriptions in ancient characters and in the Latin 
tongue nearly obliterated by time. In the centre 
of the chancel is the largest tombstone in Iona, 
that of Macleod of Macleod. Beside the royal 
tombs here are also the sepulchres of many Lords 
of the Isles, bishops, abbots, and priors, as well 
as Chiefs of the MacKinnons,Macleans,MacQuar- 



The Highlands — Fingals' Cave 253 

ries and other clans. The Duke of Argyll has 
had some excavations made, displaying the orig- 
inal foundations and plans of the ancient struc- 
tures, and uncovering many splendidly carved 
stones, which have lain for centuries beneath 
masses of rubbish. 

"Lone Isle, though storms have round thy turrets 
rode, 
Thou wert the temple of the living God, 
And taught earth's millions at His shrine to bow, 
Though desolation wraps thy glories now. 
Still thou wilt be a marvel through all time 
For what thou hast been, and the dead who rest 
Around the fragments of thy walls sublime 
Once taught the world and harbored many a guest, 
And ruled the warriors of each northern clime ; 
Thou'rt in the world like some benighted one, 
Home of the mighty that have passed away. 
Hail ! Sainted Isle ! Thou art a holy spot 
Engraved on many hearts ; and thou art worth 
A pilgrimage, for glories long gone by, 
Thou noblest College of all the ancient earth. 
Virtue and Truth, Religion itself shall die 
Ere thou canst perish from the chart of fame, 
Or darkness shroud the halo of thy name." 



254 The British Isles 

The town of Iona maintains a large fishing 
interest, but can boast of very few modern resi- 
dences. There is much beauty in the rocks and 
the sandy beach along the shores of the island. 
Our guide is very solemn as he escorts us from 
place to place, and relates events and historic 
details ; and we too, as we realize the meaning 
of these ancient monuments, are more and more 
impressed with the wonderful influence once pos- 
sessed by this little island when made the source 
from which the light of Christianity spread itself 
over the northwestern Caledonian regions. We 
feel that we are on hallowed ground : the conse- 
cration of the past lingers in its atmosphere, and 
we are reluctant to leave its awe-inspiring asso- 
ciations. 

Six o'clock finds us in Oban again, after 
ten hours spent in visiting the world-renowned 
islands. 

To-day, notwithstanding the pouring rain, we 
wend our way to the pier where the steamer 
Mountaineer awaits passengers for Ballachulish. 



The Highlands — Fingal's Cave 255 

This trip is not very interesting, as we steam up 
Loch Linnhe through mist and rain. At the 
Ballachulish Hotel we have luncheon and engage 
a carriage to take us to Glencoe. 

Passing through the village, which is inhab- 
ited by the workmen of the neighboring slate 
quarries, and is a pretty little place, we drive 
along the bank of Loch Leven, surrounded by 
lofty mountain scenery, which has been the inspi- 
ration of many poets and authors, and enter the 
Pass of Glencoe at the bridge where the road 
skirts the River Coe, between the great Sgor-na- 
Ciche, 2430 feet high, and Meall Mor, 2215 feet. 
The spot is wild and desolate, with a dreary yet 
sublime magnificence. The peculiar character of 
this glen is the absence of trees. The peaks 
look like enormous cones, with great channels 
made in their steep rugged sides by the water 
courses. The vegetation is sparse, and there are 
no cattle here, or other signs of life. As we ride 
onward, we are ever surrounded by these groups 
of tall stern mountains, in close proximity to 



256 The British Isles 

each other. Prominent among them is the 
majestic Bidean-nam-Bian. Here is Signal Rock, 
and a beautiful water-fall descending from a lofty- 
summit is pointed out as " Ossian's Shower 
Bath," while almost on the mountain top is visi- 
ble the hollow known as Ossian's Cave. Only- 
one person, it is said, has attempted the ascent 
to this cave ; an old shepherd who declared 
afterwards that he would never repeat the peril- 
ous expedition. The cave is at an elevation of 
about two thousand feet. We have reached the 
scene of the massacre. The carriage halts and 
we look upon the spot where a dastardly deed 
of vengeance was accomplished, which has left 
an indelible blot on the annals of the English 
nation. The Clan MacDonald were here massa- 
cred by the English in 1692. The story runs 
somewhat as follows : " A proclamation had 
been issued, offering indemnity to such insur- 
gents as should take the oath of allegiance to 
King William III., on or before the last day of 
December. But while most of the chiefs who 



The Highlands — FingaPs Cave 259 

had been in arms for James soon took advantage 
of the proclamation, MacDonald, of Glencoe, 
was prevented by accident rather than design 
from tendering his submission within the time. 
The king, persuaded that the MacDonalds were 
the main obstacles to the pacification of the 
Highlands, sanctioned the sanguinary orders for 
proceeding to military execution against the clan, 
and the secretary urged the officers in command 
to use the utmost rigor. Campbell, of Glenlyon, 
accordingly repaired to Glencoe on the first of 
February with a hundred and twenty men. Being 
uncle to young MacDohald's wife, he was 
received by the chief with the utmost friendship 
and hospitality, and the men were lodged with 
free quarters in the houses of the clan. Till the 
13th of the month the troops lived in harmony 
and familiarity with the people, and on the very 
night of the massacre, Glenlyon passed the even- 
ing at cards in his own quarters with Mac- 
Donald's sons. In the night Lieutenant Lindsay, 
with a party of soldiers, called in a friendly 



260 The British Isles 

manner at the chieftain's house, and was instantly 
admitted. MacDonald, while in the act of dress- 
ing himself and giving orders for refreshments 
for his guests, was shot dead at his own bedside. 
The slaughter became general, and neither age 
nor sex was spared. Several who fled to the 
mountains perished by famine and the inclem- 
ency of the season." 

This weird spot is peopled only by the ghosts 
of the dead. Nothing seems to thrive here, and 
we are glad to move on to more cheerful scenes. 

We leave Ballachulish, as we entered it, in a 
pouring rain. We take the steamer Fusilier on 
the Caledonian Canal as far as Fort William, pro- 
ceed by rail to Banavie, then change again to a 
small steamboat, the Glencarry. These boats are 
all side- wheelers. Here we have a fine view of 
Ben Nevis looking every inch of its 4400 feet. 
The magnificent panorama here is indescribable 
and never to be forgotten : the scenery is wild 
and picturesque in the extreme. Now our pas- 
sage is along the River Lochy as far as the lake 



The Highlands — Fingal's Cave 263 

of the same name. This is a beautiful body of 
water, on either side of us are still the moun- 
tains, covered with forests, while here and there 
may be seen the crops of the thrifty farmer. 

Now we are on Loch Oich, the centre of this 
great chain, as well as the most elevated of these 
lakes, " the Summit Level of the Canal." It is 
about four miles in length and a quarter of a 
mile wide, and several pretty green islands 
adorn its bosom. From the loch to the River 
Oich, and on till we arrive at Fort Augustus 
are four consecutive locks, through which 
our little steamer must pass. This occupies an 
hour : we all go ashore during the process, 
and make purchases of candy, milk and other 
refreshments. 

Fort Augustus is a pretty village, deriving 
its name from the military fort built in 1729 to 
intimidate the Highland clans. There is but little 
of the old fort left to-day, and on its foundations 
now stands St. Benedict's Abbey and School, a 
most imposing monastic institution. The village 



264 The British Isles 

is situated at the southwestern extremity of Loch 
Ness, and we have a long, delightful ride on this 
lake, with a fine view of the famous cataract of 
Foyers. These falls, for there are two falls, about 
a quarter of a mile apart, are called the " Fall of 
Smoke," in consequence of the misty vapor which 
they send up. The lower fall descends in a sheet 
of dazzling spray of snowy whiteness into a deep 
basin surrounded by huge towering rocks. The 
upper fall is broken in its descent, and an arched 
bridge spans the chasm. How we enjoy the 
pure air and beautiful scenery of this western 
Highland country. The afternoon has cleared up, 
and the sun shines on the mountain tops. 

We pass many typical Scotch scenes, and at 
last arrive at Inverness, and the Palace Hotel 
there. We feel that fortune favors us when we 
learn that the autumn meeting of the Highland 
games is to be held here to-day and to-morrow. 
This occasion is known as " The Northern 
Meeting." What luck ! 

Various clubs and ladies and gentlemen from 



The Highlands — Fingal's Cave 267 

all parts of the country come to witness these 
games, and well they may, for the finest talent 
and skill in this line of exercise are here brought 
into competition. 

We enter the grounds at one o'clock, and 
find about five thousand people assembled, among 
them, doubtless many of the nobility, besides 
other celebrities. The games last from one o'clock 
until six, and prove very entertaining. Our hotel 
gives a grand dinner in honor of the many society 
leaders who are here. A fashionable ball is also 
given in the evening; tickets, one guinea for 
gentlemen, two guineas for ladies. We do not 
join this part of the entertainment. I copy here 
an extract from the Edinburgh Scotsman, describ- 
ing these events : 

"The leading event in the Highland season 
began at Inverness yesterday. Competitions in 
piping, dancing, and in athletics generally, with 
a couple of cycle races thrown in as a conces- 
sion to the spirit of the times, were held in the 
Northern Meeting Park, and were patronized by 



268 The British Isles 

an enormous crowd of people. The weather was 
favorable, although somewhat chilly for the time 
of year. In the afternoon the sun came out with 
welcome brightness, and a large crowd of fash- 
ionable people followed its example. 

" The competition in Pibroch playing occupied 
several hours, no fewer than seventeen pipers 
taking part in it. Their playing was, on the 
whole, not so good as has been heard at the 
meeting in former years, and as only a few of 
the competitors showed outstanding merit, the 
judges had little difficulty in distributing the 
awards. The coveted gold medal was won by 
Murdo Mackenzie, piper to Mr. Butter of Fask- 
ally, who played The Battle of Waternish. Alex- 
ander Mackenzie, Resolis, the second prizeman, 
played ' I got a Kiss from the King's Hand.' 

"The dancing was better than the piping, 
and needless to say was more appreciated by the 
majority of the people present. 

" John M'Neil, Edinburgh, had the first prize 
for the fling, and Pipe Major Sutherland, Inver- 




A PRIZE DANCE 



The Highlands — Fingal's Cave 271 

gordon, had the first for the sword dance, the 
competition being confined to the Northern 
counties. With hardly an exception the athletic 
events were confined to competitors resident in 
the North, and the result was that some of them 
were not quite so interesting as they would have 
been, if open to all comers. No records were 
broken, although contests were keenly entered 
into. 

" The ball last night was a brilliant affair, 
and was exceedingly enjoyable, the pipers who 
had won prizes at the games, playing for the 
Highland dances." 

One can hardly imagine what a band of 
twenty pipers is until he hears them playing 
together. When accustomed to their peculiar 
music, it sounds sweet and harmonious. 

Inverness, the " capital of the Highlands," 
is situated, as its name implies, at the mouth of 
the river Ness, and is surrounded by broad fertile 
fields, villas and country seats. It has a popula- 
tion of about twenty thousand. We wander 



272 The British Isles 

about the city, which is a rather quiet place, and 
visit the stores in which are displayed shawls, 
scarfs, handkerchiefs, coats and dress stuffs of 
the various clans ; also cairngorms, set in silver 
or gold, and curiosities peculiar to this region. 

Everywhere we see the old Scotch names — 
Macdonald, Macgregor, Fraser, Bruce, Mac- 
laughlan, Macleod, Campbell and so on. 

To the east of the town, on the shores of 
Murray Frith, is the famous field of Culloden, 
the scene of the last great battle, and the down- 
fall of the Stuarts. This battle ended also the 
reign of the Highland chieftains, and the days of 
their glory, as they had taken sides with the 
Stuart prince. 

While we are in one of the shops, a beauti- 
ful collie dog runs up to us and whines until we 
are compelled to notice him. He rubs himself 
against us and looks imploringly in our faces. 
We ask the proprietor of the store whose dog he 
is, and what he wants, and learn that the fine 
creature belongs to a jeweller in the neighbor- 




A typical Highland washday 



The Highlands — FingaFs Cave 275 

hood, and that he is able to distinguish strangers 
visiting the city, and will go up to them and beg 
till they toss him a penny, sometimes two or 
three. He has been known to carry a half a 
dozen pennies in his mouth at once. If one fol- 
lows him, as we do after giving him a couple of 
pennies, the dog will be seen to walk slowly to 
a baker shop close by, enter, and putting his 
paws on the counter, deposit there the money, 
and wait till the girl in the shop puts his rolls in 
a bag, which he carries to a convenient spot on 
the sidewalk, and there enjoys his luncheon. We 
are told that he is a well-known character in 
the town. 

In our walks or drives in the suburbs, we 
occasionally come across a picture in real life like 
the one on the opposite page, and sometimes it 
is a very pretty sight to behold a bright, healthy 
young Scotch lassie singing as she works away 
with her feet on the family wash. We are much 
interested whenever we have an opportunity to 
observe a typical Highland washing-day scene. 



276 The British Isles 

In the country especially the washing is per- 
formed in this manner, and I can vouch for the 
satisfactory results of Scotch methods, for it is 
rare to find people more cleanly in person or 
clothing than those of the Scotch nation. 
Accompanied by our friends, we leave Inverness 
for Edinburgh, taking for our route the High- 
land Railway, via Forth Bridge, passing through 
Glen Garry, the Queen's View, Killiecrankie 
Pass, and over the celebrated bridge which spans 
the Firth of Forth. 

The scenery from Inverness to Edinburgh 
will always be a pleasant memory to us. It is 
particularly fine around Glen Garry and the 
Killiecrankie Pass. The old castle, the lofty 
mountains, Glengarry forest, the lochs — ravishing 
pictures are with us on every side for miles and 
miles. At Killiecrankie Pass, for nearly a mile 
the banks rise steeply on both sides, and the river 
is almost hidden in the deep chasm below, as it 
works its way between the rocks in the dense 
shadow cast by the overhanging trees or frown- 



rO 




The Highlands— Fingal's Cave 279 

ing precipices. The right bank, rising like a 
wall from this dusky depth, is covered with trees 
to its very summit, blending in a harmonious 
whole the varying shades of the oak and alder, 
hazel, birch and fir. The journey of seven and 
a half hours seems much shorter in the presence 
of this magnificent panorama. The words of the 
Rev. Mr. Small so well express the feelings with 
which these scenes inspire us that I can do no 
better than repeat them here : 
" In rugged grandeur, by the placid lake, 
Rise the bold mountain cliffs, sublimely rude, 
A pleasing contrast, each with each, they make ; 
And when in such harmonious union viewed, 
Each with more powerful charms appears imbued, 
Even thus it is, methinks, with mingling hearts, 
Though different far in nature and in mood ; 
A blessed influence each to each imparts, 
Which softens and subdues, yet weakens not, nor 
thwarts." 



Edinburgh and the English 
Lakes — The Home Voyage 



Edinburgh and the English Lakes— The 
Home Voyage 

Edinburgh— The Castle— Princes Street— Scott's Monu- 
ment — St. Giles's Cathedral — Canongate Tt)lbooth — 
John Knox's House —White Horse Close— Holyrood 
—Queen Mary's Apartments— The Queensferry 
Road — Dean Bridge — Forth Bridge — Farewell to 
Scotland — Keswick — Lake Derwentwater — Pencil 
Manufacturers— Greta Hall— The Islands — Drive 
Around the Lake— By Coach to Windermere— 
Homes of Shelley and Hall Caine— Wythburn 
Church— Lake Thirlmere— Helm Crag— Grasmere— 
Nab Cottage — Rydal Mount — Ambleside— Winder- 
mere — Liverpool — The Day of Departure — On 
Board the Etruria— The Voyage— New York — 
Home Again. 

jUR first visit in Edinburgh is to the 
Castle. This is a noble structure, stand- 
ing three hundred feet above the valley, 
upon a cliff which commands a full view of the 
city. Many associations cluster around these 
heights. For hundreds of years the Castle was 
a military stronghold, resisting siege after siege. 




284 The British Isles 

Cromwell tried to take it, but its rocky battle- 
ments proved inaccessible even to his Ironsides. 
Crossing a drawbridge, we pass through the old 
Portcullis Gate, above which may be seen the 
window of the cell in which the Marquis and 
Earl of Argyll were confined previous to their 
execution. Here is the armor room, in which 
receptions are held, and here in this little room, 
hardly larger than a closet, Mary, Queen of 
Scots, gave birth to the prince who was to unite 
the crowns of England and Scotland. This 
prince, when eight days old, was let down from 
the cliff in a basket, that the life so precious to 
two kingdoms might not perish by murderous 
hands. Queen Margaret's Chapel is very 
small, but it is an interesting relic of Norman 
architecture, named for the Saxon princess, 
queen of Malcolm Canmore, who died in 1093. 
On the Bomb Batterv, from which one of the 
finest views of Edinburgh may be seen, is the 
famous old gun " Mons Meg," supposed to have 
been made at Mons, in Belgium, in i486, and 



Edinburgh and English Lakes 285 

celebrated in the history of the Scottish Jameses. 
It was removed to the Tower of London in 
1684, but restored to the Castle in 1829, by the 
Duke of Wellington, on petition of Sir Walter 
Scott. The Castle has been the scene of daring 
exploits. During the conflict between Bruce 
and Baliol it was taken by the English and held 
by them for thirty years. In the regalia room 
are exhibited the crown of Robert Bruce, the 
sword of state and the jewels of the throne 
of Scotland, set with gems, and of great value. 
When Scotland was united with England, in the 
early part of the eighteenth century, the Scots 
were afraid these relics would be carried off to 
to London. They enclosed them in a chest, 
and closed up the doors and stairways leading 
to the apartment. They remained there for 
over a hundred years, until Scott, in delving 
among the musty records of the city, in search 
of material for his novels, came across the 
papers relating to their hiding-place. Every one 
had forgotten them, but Scott obtained a royal 



286 The British Isles 

search-warrant, and finally these priceless gems 
were opened to public view. The Castle, which 
has served both as a prison and a residence of the 
Scottish kings, is now used as a barrack, and 
the gorgeous costumes of the bonny soldier 
boys make the scene a pleasant one to look upon. 
Our guide talks much as a parrot, and we grant 
him only partial attention, as our eyes rove from 
one point to another of this spot so full of 
history. 

Edinburgh is one of the most picturesque 
cities in Europe. It is cut in two by a deep 
gorge, on either side of which the old and the 
new towns stand facing each other. From our 
quarters in the Royal Hotel in Princes Street, 
not far from the beautiful monument to Sir 
Walter Scott, we can see beyond the ravine the 
long rows of houses in the old town, and up to 
the ancient castle, with its immortal associations 
with Auld Reekie, as the old Scotch people used 
to call the place. 

Scott's monument stands in the eastern 



Edinburgh and English Lakes 287 

garden. A stair of 287 steps leads to the top, 
TrOnT which there is a fine view. The principal 
niches are occupied by representations of some 
of the characters in the Waverley novels. In and 
around the town we observe hundreds of mem- 
orials of this author and his characters. 

The architect of the monument, George 
Keep, a youth of great promise, was drowned 
before its completion. Scott was born in Edin- 
burgh, and died at Abbotsford, September, 1832, 
at the age of sixty-one. A fine marble statue 
of the poet stands at the base of the monument, 
and is somewhat larger than life. 

St. Giles' Cathedral is the ancient parish 
church of Edinburgh, but it has undergone so 
many repairs that it presents a rather modern 
appearance. Here John Knox thundered, and 
here James VI., the infant who was born in the 
castle, when chosen to be James I. of England, 
took leave of his Scottish subjects. 

Opposite the northwest corner of St. Giles 
formerly stood the old Tolbooth Gaol, immortal- 



288 The British Isles 

ized by Scott in the " Heart of Midlothian." 
The site is indicated by the figure of a heart 
upon the pavement. Canongate Tolbooth, or 
court-house, was erected in the reign of James VI., 
and is a good specimen of the architecture of 
the old town. 

We have reached John Knox's house. This 
manse was provided for the great reformer in 
1 5 59, when he was elected minister of Edinburgh, 
and here he resided until his death in 1572. 
Over the door is the following inscription : 

" Lufe. God. above, all. and. your, neighbor, 
as. yourself.", and beneath the window from 
which he is said to have preached to the people, 
there is a rude efBgy of the reformer pointing to 
the name of God carved upon the stone above 
in Greek, Latin and English characters. The 
pulpit from which he preached in St. Giles' 
Church is now in the Antiquarian Museum. 

White Horse Close leads to White Horse 
Inn, a very old-fashioned building, one of the 
oldest, and in by-gone days most famous hostelries 



Edinburgh and English Lakes 289 

in the city. It was here Dr. Johnson put up on 
his arrival in Edinburgh in 1773. Nearly every 
house in this part of the town is historically 
famous, and these curious alleys running out of 
the streets here are all known as " closes." 

With feelings of awe we approach the world- 
renowned Holyrood Palace and Abbey. This 
ancient pile looms up in solemn grandeur, even 
now defying time and the elements. The vener- 
able seat of Scottish royalty was originally a 
convent, as its ordinary name, the Abbey, implies, 
and like many other monastic institutions, calls 
David its founder. The legend connected with 
it is still preserved in the armorial bearings of 
the borough of the Canongate. The king, so 
runs the story, was hunting one day in the forest 
of Drumsheugh, about the year 11 28, when he 
was thrown to the ground and attacked by a 
stag which had been brought to bay. A cross 
was suddenly interposed between the defenceless 
monarch and the furious animal, which fled in 
dismay at the sight. The cross, the substance of 



290 The British Isles 

which could not be ascertained, was regarded 
with the highest veneration. In gratitude for his 
escape, the king founded and endowed the 
Church of the Holy Rood. 

Here is the Chapel Royal, a fragment of the 
ancient Abbey, founded by David I. in 112S. 
This ruin seems frail indeed, and looks as if the 
present century would have a perceptible effect 
upon the pillars that still stand. We observe 
many interesting tombs and monuments, but the 
chief interest of the palace is associated with the 
mother of James, the beautiful and ill-fated Mary, 
Queen of Scots. We recall her sad history as 
we stand upon the spot where she was married, 
and walk through the rooms in which she lived. 
Passing through the audience chamber, where 
stands the bed on which " Prince Charlie" slept 
in 1745, we enter Queen Mary's bedroom, which 
still contains the ancient bed and other furniture. 
The ceiling here, as in the other rooms, is divided 
into panels, on which are painted monograms, 
coats-of-arms and other decorations. On one 



Edinburgh and English Lakes 291 

side is the door of the secret passage by which 
the conspirators against the life of Rizzio entered, 
and adjoining is the little supper room where 
they surprised their victim and dragged him out- 
side the door of the audience chamber, murder- 
ing him at the head of the staircase. The stains 
upon the floor here are said to be blood-stains. 

We are quite fatigued by our sight-seeing in 
Edinburgh. There are so many places that we 
must visit in this wonderful old town. Arthur's 
Seat is an abrupt peak, over eight hundred feet 
high, which terminates the rugged Salisbury 
Craigs. Across the ravine are other hills, from 
three to four hundred feet high, and it is on these 
hills, and in the valleys between that Edinburgh 
is built, with the many opportunities for hand- 
some structures thoroughly availed of. The city 
is a succession of statues, memorials, churches, 
castles and historical sites. No one who has 
accomplished anything of note is not commem- 
orated in some public way in this most appreciat- 
ive community. " Edinburgh is handing down 



292 The British Isles 

to posterity in ' storied urn and animated bust' 
the memories of all her great people." 

Our English friends, who have been our con- 
stant companions for the past eight days, bid us 
good-bye this evening, as they leave Edinburgh 
for their home at St. Leonards-on-Sea. We shall 
miss them sadly. 

To-day we have planned to see the great 
Forth Bridge, built for the North British Rail- 
way across the Firth of Forth, at Queensferry, 
nine miles from Edinburgh. It is Sunday, and 
we learn that the people of this city are very 
strict in their ideas of keeping the Sabbath. All 
railway travel, as well as 'buses and trams, is 
prohibited on that day. In the case of the first 
and last of these it is an established law, but the 
'bus or char-a-banc has protested, and as the 
proceedings are still in court, it continues to run, 
in spite of the officials. 

At two o'clock this afternoon we secure seats 
in the open coach, near the driver, and start out 
with some fourteen other Sabbath-breaking pas- 



Edinburgh and English Lakes 293 

sengers, mostly from our hotel. The driver is 
a garrulous man, possibly the extra shilling has 
loosened his tongue, and gives us much informa- 
tion by the way, interspersed with anecdotes and 
jokes. 

This pike, or to speak accurately, the Queens- 
ferry Road, runs from London to Inverness. It 
is a magnificent road. We pass many places of 
interest — colleges, hotels, asylums, hospitals, resi- 
dences and noted institutions. Meanwhile the 
stream of talk flows on. In connection with Sab- 
bath rides, our driver relates that one Sunday as 
he was starting out, a woman of the Salvation 
Army thus accosted one of his passengers : " Do 

you know that you are going to h and 

d n ? " " No," replied the passenger, "lam 

going to the Forth Bridge." Such is the feeling ; 
against Sunday excursions. 

We are having a delightful ride. Over Dean 
Bridge, which spans the water of Leith at a 
height of 106 feet, we pass, with a fine view on 
either side, looking downward from the bridge. 



294 



The British Isles 



Here is one of the stories with which our old 
" whip ' ' enlivens the way : " Not many miles from 
here a landlord one day passing the home of one 
of his tenants perceived John eating his porridge 
out in the garden in the pouring rain. ' Why, 
John/ he exclaimed, ' what are you doing out 
here ? Why do you not stay in the house, where 
it is warm and dry ?' ' Ah, mister, my chim- 
ney reeks.' ' Well,' said the landlord, ' I will 
have it fixed at once,' and he advanced towards 
the house to look into the state of affairs. ' Oh, 
mister, you must not look at it now,' said John 
anxiously. ' Yes, but I must and will,' returned 
the owner, and, suiting the action to the word, 
he opened the door, and met with a warm recep- 
tion from John's wife, who rushed at him and 
beat him over the head with a broom. Fleeing 
from the spot the landlord was heard to say : 
* Ah, John, my good man, sometimes my chim- 
ney reeks, too.' " 

As we approach the estates of the Earl of 
Rosebery, which extend miles on either side, our 



Edinburgh and English Lakes 297 

talkative Jehu tells us how Lord Rosebery, while 
at college, made a bet that he would win the 
Derby and become Prime Minister of England. 
"And," he adds, "he has done even better, for 
he has won the Derby twice, and has married a 
daughter of the Rothschilds." 

One anecdote follows another, until we reach 
the famous bridge which spans the Forth. Here 
we leave the coach and take a small steamer, 
which, for sixpence each, carries us under and to 
the side of this wonderful structure, a marvel 
even in this nineteenth century of miracles. The 
guide book states that : 

" This magnificent structure was opened for 
traffic by the Prince of Wales, on the 4th of 
March, 1890. It was designed by Sir John 
Fowler and Sir Benjamin Baker, on the ancient 
and simple principle of the cantilever or balancing 
brackets, which combines the support of an arch 
with the tension of a suspension bridge. It was 
in process of construction seven years, under the 
superintendence of these gentlemen and Sir 



298 The British Isles 

William Arrol, the contractor, who displayed 
wonderful ingenuity, energy and resource in 
overcoming the stupendous physical difficulties 
of so gigantic a work. It consists of two huge 
steel girders, bridges of 17 10 feet span, besides 
smaller ones on either side, equal to the enor- 
mous pressure of 1 1 2 pounds to the square foot. 
Several of the principal piers or foundations of 
these great spans were built up from the bottom 
of the sea with great ' caissons,' or metal cases 
gradually filled with concrete and sand. The 
northern central pier rests partly on Inchgarvie 
Island. From the base of the deepest pier to 
the top of the cantilevers is 450 feet, and the 
clear space under the centre spans above the sur- 
face of the water is 150 feet. It is thus the 
loftiest bridge in the world, and its total length 
is 1 mile and 1 000 yards. Over 50,000 tons 
of steel were used in its structure, and it cost 
over 3,000,000 pounds. It was built to shorten 
the distance between Edinburgh and Perth." 
To-day we bid farewell to dear Scotland. 



Edinburgh and English Lakes 299 

How reluctant we are to leave her beautiful lakes 
and mountains ! What pleasure we have had in 
the countless picturesque views which have been 
ever before us in these past weeks ! Memory- 
takes us back to Oban, Iona, Staffa, the Valley 
of Glencoe, and all the fair Scottish lochs, 
Lomond, Katrine and Ard ; and to Scott's 
romantic Trossachs, and the noble mountains, 
and to the noblest of all, lofty Ben Nevis ; and 
the delightful sail on the Caledonian Canal to 
Inverness ; and beautiful Edinburgh with its 
interesting walks and drives, its monuments and 
memorials. How happy these days have been ! 
Long, long will they linger in our hearts. As 
the train pulls out of Waverly Station, we mur- 
mur softly and regretfully : " Good-bye, dear 
Scottish land, good-bye." 

" Farewell to the Highlands, farewell to the North ; 
The birthplace of Valor, the country of Worth ; 
Wherever I wander, wherever I rove, 
The hills of the Highlands forever I love. 



300 The British Isles 

"Farewell to the mountains, high covered with 

snow ; 
Farewell to the straths and green valleys below ; 
Farewell to the forests and wild hanging woods, 
Farewell to the torrents and loud pouring floods." 

We make several changes between Edinburgh 
and Keswick, stopping on the way at Melrose 
Station, where we have a fine view of the Abbey 
from the car window. The Abbey of St. Mary 
at Melrose was founded by David I. in 1126. 
Among the other religious edifices on the Scott- 
ish border, it suffered from many acts of violence, 
but it is beautiful even in its ruins, and its grace- 
ful and luxuriant style places it in the highest 
rank of ecclesiastical architecture. Here, it is 
said, rest the remains of Alexander II., and here 
was deposited the heart of King Robert the 
Bruce. Keswick is a pretty little town of about 
4000 inhabitants, where we observe some very 
attractive shops. 

We stroll to Lake Derwentwater. This is 
one of the most beautiful of the English lakes. 



Edinburgh and English Lakes 303 

It is about three miles long-, and one mile wide, 
and is surrounded by steep wooded crags and 
lovely green hills, with charming little islands 
resting upon its surface. We are delighted with 
this spot, and engaging one of the many small 
boats that are to be seen at the water's edge, I 
take off coat and vest, and we make the tour of 
the lake. The water is smooth, and the day is 
cloudless. As we row along, we pass a pictur- 
esque point clad in a robe of green, purple and 
other softened hues, and known as Friar's Crag. 
Numerous mountains seem to close the prospect 
ahead of us. Three hours pass rapidly by as we 
loiter on this bewitching lake, and we get up 
good appetites for luncheon. 

This afternoon we visit the pencil factory of 
Banks & Co., and find much to interest us with- 
in the walls of this old building. Here are the 
grinding and pressing rooms, the sawing depart- 
ment, painting and polishing rooms, and packing 
office. In the latter, a middle-aged woman is 
seated at a long table tying pencils in packages 



304 The British Isles 

of a dozen each. She does not count the pen- 
cils as she takes them up, yet eveiy time only 
twelve pencils are removed from the pile. I ask 
if she never makes a mistake, and am told that 
for every package found to contain more or less 
than twelve pencils, I may have a present of a 
pound in gold. She works with almost incred- 
ible rapidity. In the sample room we purchase 
pencils, seven, twelve, eighteen, twenty-four, and 
even thirty inches long. The last may also be 
used as walking sticks. We are presented with 
a box, showing the entire process, from the rock 
lead to the finished pencil. I see in imagination, 
at this moment, an artist out sketching with one 
of these pencils, thirty inches long. It hardly 
belongs to the vest pocket series. 

Not far from the old mill is Greta Hall, the 
residence of the poet Southey, from 1803 until 
his death in 1843. A monument to the poet 
may be seen in the little Crosthwaite Church, 
beyond the bridge which crosses the Greta. Shel- 
ley also lived for a time in this locality. 



Edinburgh and English Lakes 305 

There are many interesting associations con- 
nected with Lake Derwentwater and its islands, 
three of which may be seen from the shore. 
These are Derwent Isle, Lord's Island, and 
beyond the latter, Herbert Island. All three 
are the subject of legend and tradition. Herbert 
Island was the abode of the saint whose name it 
bears, and the remains of his cell in the middle 
of the island bear witness to this fact. St. Her- 
bert lived in the seventh century. 

A thousand years later, we hear of Lady 
Derwentwater issuing from the family mansion 
on Lord's Isle, and flying up Wallow Crag, this 
wooded height on the side of the lake, and by 
the Lady's Rake, on her way to London, in a 
desperate effort to save the life of her rebel lord, 
who perished on the scaffold for participating in 
the rebellion of 171 5. 

To-day we drive around the beautiful lake. 
The sky is clear and as blue as cobalt; not a 
cloud is visible, and the air is delightful. We 
behold a series of varied and charming views. 



306 The British Isles 

Here is a lovely little wooded height called 
Castle Head, and farther on are the Barrow 
Falls, which, however, cannot bear comparison 
with the Lodore Falls, but a short distance 
beyond. We pass through a little village, and 
ascend a ridge which affords us a good view 
of the surrounding country. Here is Cat Bells' 
Ridge, and here a woods on the side of the 
road, and onward we go till we reach our hotel 
again. Afar, the mountains tower in varied 
hues of purple, green and umber, while along 
the slopes flocks of sheep and other cattle graze 
quietly upon the abundant grass and heather. 

The rumble of wheels and the clatter of 
horses' feet announce the tally-ho that is to 
carry us to Windermere, the largest of the Eng- 
lish lakes. We are fortunate in having already 
engaged the box seats, for an excursion party 
goes by this coach to Ambleside. The party 
numbers twenty-nine, including the " Whip " and 
eight musicians, who are good enough to enliven 
the ride with a variety of choice (?) music. 



Edinburgh and English Lakes 307 

An elderly English lady sitting back of us 
seems quite irritated by the music. She leans 
over, and in tones by no means modulated, 
declares it to be " beastly, and at times, horrid." 

The weather is fine and our horses travel 
well over these steep mountain roads. Now and 
then the men jump off, while one of the ladies 
takes the reins and drives skilfully to the mount- 
ain top. Looking back, we have a magnificent 
view of Lake Derwentwater and Bassenthwaite. 
Here the road is seven hundred feet above the 
level of the sea. 

Our driver points out the home of Shelley, 
and the residences of Hall Caine and the Bishop 
of Bath, pretty and attractive, but unpretentious 
spots. We have now in full view, a large mount- 
ain, which resembles an enormous elephant ; 
head, ears, eyes and long trunk are faithfully 
represented. When nothing of especial interest 
presents itself, the band favors us with national 
airs, much to the annoyance of the English lady, 
who, by the way, complains much of everything. 



308 The British Isles 

The wonder is that she allows herself to take 
the trip at all. 

" Whoa," shouts the driver, and we stop 
before Wythburn Church and Inn. We do not 
enter the Inn, but in we must go to the little 
old church, a quaint and cosy place, capable of 
accommodating a hundred and fifty worshippers. 
After fifteen minutes spent in resting and looking 
about us, we are again on the way. Here is a 
fine view of Lake Thirlmere, and farther on, of 
Helm Crag. The lake is three miles long, and 
scarcely a third of a mile wide ; near the middle 
it narrows to a few yards in width, and is 
spanned by a small wooden bridge. This is a 
beautiful picture, with Helvellyn to the left, and 
Skiddaw in the distance. Helm Crag is noted 
for the peculiar formation of the rocks on its 
crest, which are a fair representation of the oft- 
quoted passage of Scripture : " The lion and the 
lamb shall lie down together." 

The placid and picturesque waters of Gras- 
mere Lake are about a mile long and nearly a 



Edinburgh and English Lakes 309 

half a mile wide. A solitary green island gleams 
like an emerald upon its surface. We stop at 
an old hotel in the neighborhood for rest and 
luncheon. The village, a simple, unpretending 
place, has been celebrated by the poetry of 
Wordsworth. We peep into the church, and 
stroll through the church-yard, in which are the 
graves of Coleridge and Wordsworth. 

Refreshed by the luncheon and short rest, 
the band plays more sweet melodies, and off we 
whirl, leaving behind us the town of Grasmere 
and some five and twenty villagers who have come 
out of their houses on the roadside, attracted by 
the music. 

This neat little stone building is Nab Cottage, 
once the home of the poet Hartley Coleridge, 
and here is the far-famed Rydal Mount, the home 
of Wordsworth during the latter years of his life ; 
and close by is the village of Rydal. We are on 
a pretty road, with fields on either side. Our 
driver, always faithful to his duty, points out the 
spot where Wordsworth was wont to sit. The 



310 The British Isles 

poet's favorite haunt is a pile of rocks of various 
shapes, well shaded by oaks and chestnut trees, 
with some shrubbery, not far from the quiet waters 
of Rydal. 

As we look backwards towards Rydal Hall 
and the village in the distance, we gaze upon a 
lovely picture. The poet's house, on a hill behind 
the church, is almost hidden by trees. Within 
the grounds of Rydal Hall the charming little 
Falls of the Rydal send forth a musical voice, 
and the wooded mountains stand calm and beau- 
tiful in their green foliage. The scene vanishes, 
our well-tried steeds keep up their steady pace, 
and the only sounds now heard are the rumble of 
the coach and the occasional cracking of the 
whip, save when the band breaks forth in sudden 
melody, or the discontented English passenger 
utters her complaints. In silence we feast our 
eyes upon the romantic scenes around us. 

At Ambleside we take another coach, and bid 
farewell to the English lady and her companions. 
Ambleside is beautifully situated in the valley of 



Edinburgh and English Lakes 313 

the Rothay. It is supposed to have been a Roman 
station, as fragments of tesselated pavements and 
other relics have been found in the neighborhood. 
It is a head-quarters for excursions in the southern 
part of the Lake District. With a lingering back- 
ward glance at the picturesque spot, we start 
onward, and reach Oiggs' Hotel at Windermere 
without incident, at three o'clock in the afternoon. 
This morning we take a drive which embraces 
a general outline of the attractions of this cele- 
brated place. We ride ten or twelve miles along 
the most frequented, as well as most secluded 
roads. Yesterday's journey also helps to fill out 
our view of the northern, middle and southern 
portions of Lake Windermere. It is the largest 
lake in England, being ten miles and a half long, 
and a third of a mile wide. It has many land- 
ings, and these with the numberless sail boats 
upon the water, its beautiful wooded banks, varied 
by picturesque villas and the lofty mountains to 
be seen on either side, render this one of the most 
delightful regions in the country. The celebrated 



314 The British Isles 

region known as the Lake District embraces a 
wealth of diversified scenery, with mountains and 
lakes, which, though not excelling by their great 
size, present a more wildly picturesque panorama 
than one would expect w r ho has not seen them. 
There are in all about sixteen lakes or meres, 
besides innumerable mountain tarns. The highest 
mountains are Scafell Pike, Scafell, Helvellyn 
and Skiddaw, and these range from three thousand 
to three thousand two hundred feet in height. 
The Lake School of Poetry has made the district 
its own, and few points of interest have been left 
unsung in this locality. 

The fashionable season is over, but there are 
still many people here, and the stylish landau 
with its elegant lord and lady is no uncommon 
sight. 

Our plan was to remain at Windermere a 
couple of days, then move on to Liverpool, but our 
apartment at the hotel here is so damp and cheer- 
less that we decide to leave for Liverpool to-day, 
and so the afternoon finds us driving up to the 



Edinburgh and English Lakes 315 

.. Adelphi Hotel, and rejoicing in the homelike 
atmosphere which greets us here. 

Thus ends our tour of Ireland, Scotland and 
the English Lakes. All that now remains is the 
voyage from here to New York, which we con- 
template with glad hearts, for we are longing to 
set our feet once more upon the dear American 
soil and feel ourselves surrounded by a loving 
family and faithful friends. May kind Providence 
spare us for this anticipated happiness. 

After a week of mingled rest and entertain- 
ment, the day of our departure is at hand, and 
what a scene of confusion is the Adelphi Hotel. 
Passengers for the steamer are taking luncheon, 
while others move to and fro in an excited way, 
asking questions or making arrangements with 
the head porter for the delivery of their baggage. 
Many carriages stand before the hotel, waiting to 
convey its guests to the pier ; 'buses drive 
rapidly by filled with travellers, and rows of 
steamer chairs and trunks crowd each other in 
the corridors. We reach the Princes Landing in 



316 The British Isles 

good time, and find our noble ship awaiting the 
signal to start. 

At 2.30 p. m. the usual ringing of gongs 
and blowing of whistles take place, accompanied 
by waving handkerchiefs, farewell calls, and 
kisses wafted across the watery space. And now 
we are in the middle of the Mersey, steaming on 
our homeward course. 

After the usual programme of settling our 
belongings, and making final arrangements, we 
repair to the saloon, where each one entertains 
himself in the manner that suits him best. The 
day is not pleasant enough to go on deck, as mist 
and rain accompany us. The steamer has her 
full complement of passengers, and we look for 
a good attendance at dinner this evening, then a 
gradual falling off for several days. 

Thus far our " log " shows a record of 
weather anything but pleasant. We have had 
fog, rough sea, rain, and strong head winds, and 
at this moment the steamer rolls so as to render 
writing almost impossible. I have never before 



Edinburgh and English Lakes 317 

seen such a seasick-stricken set of voyagers. 
Only eight of the 320 first cabin passengers 
respond to the dinner bell, or rather bugle, 
to-day. The old custom of ringing a gong is 
superseded by the bugle, which is sounded a half 
hour before, and at the hour for each meal. For 
myself, I prefer the gong. 

We are all pretty badly shaken up, and feel 
the effects of the sea generally. To-night is our 
worst night. The storm rages all night long, 
and the constant blowing of the fog horn, the 
racing of the propeller, and the violent beating 
of the waves against the side of the ship permit 
little or no sleep. All door-ways are closed, and 
ventilation is at a low ebb. Many passengers do 
not retire at all, for various reasons. One says 
he wishes to be prepared in case of accident. 
Others are more or less frightened. Some one 
tells the story of the darkey who preferred a 
wreck on land to one on sea, because in the 
first case, one could look about him after the 
accident, and say, " Well, der yer are." But 



31 8 The British Isles 

on the ocean it is more likely to be, " Where 
are y er ?' ' 

I say to a lady at my side that the steamer 
is " racing frightfully," and she replies: " Dear 
me! I thought racing was prohibited." And 
she declares emphatically that she will report 
the captain on our arrival in New York, for 
racing in such a sea. When, however, I assure 
her that in this case " racing " only indicates the 
speed of the propeller in the storm, her indigna- 
tion changes to laughter at such nautical igno- 
rance. 

This night is really worse than any other in 
the whole passage. The gale is fiercer, and the 
ship plunges and tosses incessantly. The doors 
of the companion-ways are all bolted, and the 
storm-doors fastened outside. Very few appear 
at the dinner-table. The old maxim that " he 
who sleeps, dines," may find itself established 
here in negatives, as there are neither diners nor 
sleepers. 

To-day is clear and beautiful, and the sea, 



Edinburgh and English Lakes 319 

towards noon, is smooth. The purser and other 
officials prophesy that we will be in dock in New 
York harbor to-morrow between two and three 
o'clock. The appearance of the pilot on board 
to-day at noon assures us that we are indeed 
nearing home. This evening will be a busy one, 
as the last preparations for leaving the steamer 
must be made. What a pleasant occupation ! 

A concert was suggested for the evening, and 
we were asked, among others, to contribute to 
the entertainment, but the project falls through, 
as there are too many conflicting claims upon 
every one's attention just now. 

This forenoon is spent in attending to those 
innumerable " last things," which can never be 
done until the last minute. We hope to reach 
New York at two o'clock. The rain, which 
comes down in torrents, is a disappointment to 
the many who have anticipated sitting on deck 
and enjoying the scenery. 

Now we approach the Cunard Docks, upon 
which are visible innumerable friends of the 



320 The British Isles 

passengers, with smiling faces, waving handker- 
chiefs, and other demonstrations of delight. We 
land at last amid endless joyous greetings. Now 
there is a scramble for the baggage. Men and 
women, messenger boys, policemen, Custom 
House officers, wagons and trunks seem inex- 
tricably mingled together. Finally our trunks 
are found, and to our great relief inspected, and 
an hour and a half from the time of our arrival 
we are seated in a railway coach on our way to 
dear old Philadelphia, our home, and the home 
of those we love best. And this is the end of 
one of the happiest tours it has been our good 
fortune to make. 



[the end.] 



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